


To err is Human

by PersephoneChthonia



Series: Cycle of Vengeance [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Abuse, Consequences, Gen, M/M, Michael becomes human, References to The Good Place
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 59
Words: 150,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23310364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersephoneChthonia/pseuds/PersephoneChthonia
Summary: The Falls, the failed Apocalypse, nearly the entire Host turning against their superiors afterwards... Things couldn't get much worse, surely? But for the Archangel Michael—eldest of the angels and commander of the army—things were never simple.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Cycle of Vengeance [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1632856
Comments: 105
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And we're back! Normally I like to post on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but since I have nothing better to do on my birthday thanks to social distancing, I decided to post the first chapter today. Unlike the last one though, I have a very vague outline for this, so I'm basically writing things as I go for the most part and updates might not be consistent. Should be interesting.
> 
> Also, in case you haven't noticed, this series will now be called "Cycle of Vengeance" and "The Trial" will now be called "Seeds of Doubt" instead.

Heaven's cells were so nice and cozy that Nithael couldn't really complain. So much better than any abyss. Not that she would ever say this to her demonic compatriots of course, but she didn't think they'd actually disagree with her either, so long as anyone from the Dark Council wasn't present.

She also didn't think any of them even knew she was still gone. In fact, the only reason she'd even known about the trial in the first place was because she'd already been in Heaven for business purposes a few days before and... well, Cervial always was a bit of a blabbermouth. How he was still working for the _Observer_ was a mystery even to her.

Nithael knew she would be unwelcome, but she didn't care. Maybe it would be entertaining and besides, she still needed a test subject. Might as well take the opportunity, right?

And entertaining it was! And surprisingly dramatic. After the Virgin's testimony, she wondered which other spirits were capable of turning against those pretentious Archangels. But even she believed that Gabriel had already been through enough—for today, at least. As for Michael...

 _It'll never be enough!_ Nithael gripped onto a cell bar tightly at the thought of her former boss. At least she'd been able to embarrass her before she put her spell to work. She learned about the backchannels through pure chance and it hadn't been hard to get the correspondence records either since she never really left Communications—a job which partially required her to keep an eye on the written words of leaders, including Michael's.

But angels, it seemed, had very selective memories.

The old bird even still had the audacity to give her _orders_. Despite her position, she hadn't considered herself an angel in a long time and the only reason she never changed her name was more out of mockery than anything.

Thankfully, not all Archangels were completely useless. She had Gabriel to thank for the idea for a transformation spell ever since his stupidity had gotten him temporarily cast out of Heaven. As far as Nithael knew, he'd still retained his powers during this time. But what if he _hadn't_?

So, she went to work as soon as she heard the news, but because its completion was recent, she didn't know if her spell would actually be successful until she saw the lack of ashes. But if she'd ended up killing Michael instead, that would've been just fine with her as well, although it wouldn't have been nearly as much fun. And if Haniel and the others weren't going to be grateful of what she'd done, then it was their loss. Even in Hell, hardly anyone appreciated her genius.

 _Maybe they will after I tell them my plan worked._ The thought of finally being respected and perhaps even feared genuinely made her feel giddy, though something told her Satan—the only one who knew of her plan—simply wouldn't allow for anyone to be more powerful than him, even if he did give her approval to hurt his sister. And she doubted Heaven would let something like this get out anyway, which she suspected was the main reason why she was still here, away from the other prisoners.

But why couldn't they have at least stationed a guard near her cell for her to annoy? Despite her comfort, it didn't take long for her to get bored. _Now I remember why I rebelled._

At least her phone hadn't been confiscated, but the one she had on her was an old model and she wasn't in the mood to be yelled at by Belphegor again, even though she was older than him and the only reason he was even on the Council in the first place was because he _just so happened_ to be in the right place at the right time during the reign of some emperor or other (after awhile, the centuries just all tend to blur together).

She never did understand why he'd been given the position of Sloth, though. Ironic, since he was an inventor.

"Nithael!"

She could almost hear that French accent of his. _I must finally be going mad._

" _Imbécile_ _!_ I've been trying to call you for hours!"

Oh no. That _was_ his voice.

Nithael forced a smile and prepared to apologize—as much her dignity would allow, that is—but her face fell when she saw him. His blond hair was horribly unkempt and his black suit was all wrinkly. She really couldn't help but feel embarrassed by him; just because he represented Sloth didn't mean he had to embody it.

The head guard of the second heaven Galizur trailed after him, and judging by the annoyed expression on their face, it seemed like they were trying to stop him from reaching his co-worker since he arrived and then gave up halfway.

Nithael scrunched her nose the closer Belphegor got, and she soon realized his appearance may not have been due to lack of effort after all. _He must've been with Asmodeus right before he got here,_ she thought as she tried not to gag from the musky stink of lust. It was times like these where she actually envied the angels and suddenly staying in here didn't seem so bad.

But she did her best to ignore it; unless it interfered with any missions or directly posed a threat to Hell, a demon's private life was largely their own business. "Sorry, Belphegor. But my phone was on silent and—"

"Oh, enough with your excuses!"

Nithael withheld a sigh. The interruptions were really beginning to annoy her.

Belphegor then turned to Galizur. " _Allons_ _!_ Let her out!"

The guard shook their head. "In case you've forgotten, _demon_ , I have no reason to listen to you. You're lucky to have made it this far at all."

"Oh, relax. I'm only here to collect my employee. Now if you would _please_ let her out."

"Even if I wanted to—which I _don't_ _—_ I can't. I'm under orders to not release her."

"Orders?" Belphegor asked, confused. "By whom? Wait, let me guess. Michel's, right? Or Gabriel's? Those two have always been so paranoid. Nithael's completely harmless."

The imprisoned demon stifled a laugh.

"Let me talk to one of them so this can get all sorted out. She has a few assignments I've been meaning to give her."

And knowing Belphegor, they likely consisted of just encouraging children to procrastinate. There was a reason why Nithael had stuck with such a young form in the last century or so. Still, she always thought such tasks were beneath her, and she was just itching to get back to influencing world leaders to act like idiots in public instead (not that they needed her help, but at least it was more fun).

Galizur sighed exasperatedly. "You're not going to leave until you get her out of here, are you?"

"Absolutely not."

They frowned, but soon pulled out their phone to call someone.

As they were doing this, Belphegor turned to Nithael. "So what exactly did you do to get arrested?"

"Nothing!" came the defensive reply. "It's like you said, Michael and Gabriel are just paranoid. Can't say I blame them though, what with the failed Apocalypse and everything."

Belphegor didn't seem to believe her, but fortunately didn't press her further. "Keep your secrets, then. I just hope whatever you did has no impact on us."

Nithael gave him her most innocent of smiles. " _Of course not_ , Belphegor! Don't you trust me?"

"Let me think... _Non._ "

She wasn't surprised. Save for a few exceptions, demons didn't normally trust each other. Or maybe it was that they just didn't trust _her_. That last one seemed more likely the more she thought about it; that was the downside of her being a Fallen Bearer.

Hurried footsteps soon sounded on the reflective floor, and Nithael saw it was Raguel who was approaching them. Her gray eyes landed on Belphegor as she narrowed them. "What are you doing here? And make this quick, I'm very busy at the moment."

Nithael guessed she'd likely been in the middle of presiding over the other trials.

Belphegor crossed his arms. "My supervisee here needs to work, but then I find out that she's been imprisoned for supposedly doing nothing. Now, if you would be a dear and order your guard here to release her so that we may both get on with our lives?"

"He won't leave without her, ma'am," Galizur added.

Raguel's troubled gaze glanced between the three beings. "She told you nothing, then?" she asked Belphegor slowly.

He shook his head. "Unless she was lying and whatever she's done affects my co-workers." He then glared at the little demon. "And she _knows_ the punishment for potential betrayal."

Nithael bowed her head submissively, though the threat did little to bother her in reality. She knew it was an empty one, and Hell wouldn't dare risk losing another demon so soon after Ligur's death and Crowley's defection. Besides, her spell only affected angels, anyway.

Raguel seemed uncertain on what to do. "She must stay here," she replied, though her voice was so low that it almost seemed like she was talking to herself.

"Well, either she did something or not!" Belphegor said impatiently. "Or is an _angel of justice_ really imprisoning demons for little to no reason?"

Raguel shuffled a foot uncomfortably and seemed to be considering her options before holding out a hand to Galizur. The guard warily handed her the key and the judge stepped forward to open the cell herself.

"Just in case," Raguel whispered to Nithael once she was close enough, "I hereby forbid you from telling any of your co-workers about what has transpired today." She quickly took the demon's hand into hers as soon as the door was open, and Nithael immediately felt a sharp surge of electricity course through her.

"Finally!" Belphegor quickly gripped onto his co-worker's wrist tighter than what was necessary, and the smaller demon tried not to wince. " _Allons-y._ The sooner we're out of here, the better."

For just a moment, Nithael thought she saw concern in Raguel's and Galizur's eyes as she was being dragged away.

* * *

Nithael was grateful to be back in her office. Sure, it may have been small and cramped, but it was _hers_. Here, no one could yell at all or insult her or underestimate her. It helped that she'd recently had soundproof walls put in place and all her former office mates had returned to their duties as field agents.

As soon as she was alone, the first thing she did was made it so her wrist no longer hurt, though she was never one to take the mistreatment personally. They were all demons, after all and the Dark Council was just horrible towards everyone, though Beelzebub was certainly better compared to the rest of them.

It wasn't like she could do anything about it, anyway. After all, she was only one demon.

 _One demon who ended up taking down the Archangel Michael all on her own._ So what if...?

No, it simply wouldn't be possible. Hell's residents were already resistant to Hellfire. She'd have to use holy water instead, but even if the thought didn't make her uncomfortable and it somehow did work, there was no telling if her spell would get her the results she wanted.

 _But_ _I didn't know if my spell on Michael would work either,_ Nithael reminded herself.

Suddenly, a large stack of papers appeared on her desk and there was a note from Belphegor attached to it, reading: _"Because you're so focused on whatever it is you've been doing, I'm giving you some extra assignments to make up for lost time. Do try to get them done as soon as possible."_

She'd only gone through a few of them by the time she realized that all of them were basically the same as always: encourage procrastination.

"This is ridiculous!" Nithael hissed. She had once dripped in gold while flirting with handsome kings and mighty pharaohs, had influenced them on how 'best' to run their country... How had she fallen so far? At the very least, a little variety would be nice. True, she could always file a complaint or make a request to go back to her old job, but she already knew Belphegor would never listen.

Not unless she took matters into her own hands.

And unlike with Michael, she was _absolutely sure_ no one would actually miss Belphegor if he was gone; even his relationship with Asmodeus wasn't anything serious. All it would lead to was a vacant seat on the Council, one that could be easily refilled should the worst happen. With any luck, he'd grow too impulsive and cause his own death. This was why the representative for Wrath was always changing, so there was no reason to think the same couldn't apply to the other Sins.

 _Maybe_ I _could be on it._ Nithael laughed at her own little joke. _I always did want to have my own throne._

But fantasies were fantasies. And besides, she would never turn against her own kind, however horrible they were.

 _But then again,_ Nithael thought as she set the note ablaze, _isn't dreaming just another form of planning?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be a Michael chapter, but because I'm working with a vague outline here, this turned into a Gabriel and Raphael chapter instead.

"Promise you won't panic?"

Gabriel crossed his arms at Raphael's question. "When have I ever been known to panic?"

Raphael arched an eyebrow. "Do you want the short list or the long?"

"Look, just tell me what's been going on."

It hadn't been long since Raphael had gotten him out of the second heaven and into the healer's office. Different degrees in both medicine and science decorated the walls while a bust of Hippocrates sat atop a bookshelf in the corner. The room's rose scent had initially comforted Gabriel for just a moment until he remembered how distressed Haniel had seemed earlier.

Raphael frowned and moved his chair to sit beside him. "Okay, well, I'm just going to come right out and say it: Nithael turned Michael human."

Gabriel blinked and sat there in silence, expecting him to say he was just joking. Because if Nithael had enough power to turn an angel mortal, then what did that say about the rest of Downstairs? "Ha," he said weakly when the older angel didn't continue. "Very funny, Raphael."

Unfortunately, the anxious look never left Raphael's face, and a dreadful feeling settled within Gabriel.

"Where's Nithael now?" he asked, doing his best to keep calm.

"Currently imprisoned. I plan to thoroughly interrogate her shortly, and Raziel is doing everything he can to find Michael as we speak."

"Do we know if any other demons are capable of doing something like this?"

"If there were, don't you think there'd be more missing angels by now?"

Raphael had a point, but this didn't do anything to reassure Gabriel. For all they knew, Hell could've been biding their time until the opportunity presented itself. Or maybe this was some sort of new power.

"And since I'm going to go to Earth to find Michael," the healer continued before Gabriel could voice his thoughts, "I wish for you to come with me."

This took him by surprise. "Really? You aren't worried about me hurting another human?" He still hadn't really forgiven Raphael for scolding him in front of everyone like he was still a squab.

"That's all in the past, dear."

"You scolded me about it literally a few hours ago!"

But Raphael merely shrugged and changed the subject. "Anyway, would you like to come with me or not? Because if you're going to be all fussy, then you might as well just stay here."

"Fussy!?"

A knock then sounded on the door, and in came Raguel after Raphael gave his approval to enter.

"Aren't you supposed to be presiding over another trial?" Raphael asked. "I find it hard to believe that you've already finished with the others."

Gabriel silently agreed. Raphael had said that further trials were going to include members from all three spheres to be on the jury, but with the way things were going lately, part of him doubted Raguel had actually agreed to it.

Raguel didn't seem to take notice of the tension. "I'll be getting back to the defendants soon. I simply thought to inform you that the demon is gone."

"She's dead?" Raphael asked, seeming neither relieved nor disappointed; as far as Gabriel was concerned, he himself was more annoyed than anything. Now how was he going to get answers if the culprit wasn't even alive anymore?

Raguel shook her head. "What I mean is, Belphegor came by and—"

"Belphegor?" Gabriel stood in alarm, Raphael following.

"Is he still here?" the healer asked. "Is anyone else from the Dark Council with him?" It didn't take a genius to know he really just meant Asmodeus.

"No and no," she replied. "He just came to take Nithael back Downstairs."

"I don't recall giving anyone permission to let the demon go." By now, Raphael's voice was slightly raised.

"What would you have wanted me to do?" Raguel asked defensively. "Let him stay in Heaven until the rest of the Dark Council came looking for him? Tell him that Nithael couldn't leave because she was under arrest for turning Michael mortal?"

"He'll know anyway," Gabriel said. "And so will the rest of Hell, no thanks to you!" How could Raguel have done something so stupid?

The principality briefly glared at him, but turned her gaze back to Raphael. "You're acting as though I didn't I didn't think of some kind of backup! Before Nithael left, I made it so she wouldn't tell anyone about today. Everything will be _fine_ , Raphael."

Raphael still seemed skeptical, and so was Gabriel. There were plenty of ways to communicate that didn't require speaking.

"Now," she continued, "is there anything else you'd like to accuse me of, or may I go back to my job now?"

You _were the one who came to_ us! Gabriel wanted to say as much aloud, until Raphael spoke again.

"Yes, you may go," he said calmly, but it almost sounded forced. "And I hope you've done as I suggested."

Raguel only nodded silently before finally leaving.

"I don't trust her," Gabriel said as the footsteps receded. He didn't trust _anyone_ in the third sphere lately. But he couldn't just punish _all_ of them; as the ones closest to Earth, they were just as important as any other angel.

" _I_ think she's just misguided. We all are, in some way." There was a distant look in Raphael's eyes now as he sat back down.

"Uh, Raphael?" Gabriel tried getting his attention by shaking him. "Are you okay?"

The older Archangel blinked a few times and shook his head. "Right. Sorry about that." Clearing his throat, he said, "Now, as I was saying, would you like to come with me or not?"

Gabriel frowned. He knew Raphael had studied therapy, and didn't that require talking about your problems? But knowing his brother, he wouldn't say anything until he was ready. And the sooner Michael was back, the more time they'd have to deal with everything else.

"Yeah, I'll come," he said at last. He really didn't want to go to Earth again, but he'd do anything to get away from the insanity of today.

Raphael smiled. "Wonderful! We'll leave as soon as Raziel gives us her location. And in the meantime, I thought of talking to God for help."

Uncertainty washed over the younger Archangel. "Are you sure the Metatron will even let you talk to Her?"

"It's worth a try, especially if he knows what happened."

Gabriel could see the logic in this plan—a human becoming an angel wasn't anything new, as was the case with the Metatron and Sandalphon, once known as Enoch and Elijah respectively. Maybe the Almighty would be able to do the same with Michael.

And yet, he wasn't convinced it would work. "I thought we were going to keep this a secret." The last thing they needed right now was a Heavenwide panic.

"It's the Metatron, Gabriel," Raphael said as he stood up again. "I'm sure he keeps Her secrets all the time, so I'm sure one more won't make a difference. And once we tell him what's been going on, there's no way he can refuse."

* * *

"No."

"But—"

"No!"

"If you would just—"

"Come back later. The Almighty is—"

"Very busy? Yes, we know."

Just as Gabriel suspected, the Metatron wasn't listening to Raphael at all. _I told you this'd be pointless,_ he thought as the two angels went back and forth.

"Metatron, please!" Raphael said. "Michael's life may be in danger."

"Oh, in that case, do go in."

"Really?"

"No!" The Metatron gave an exasperated sigh. "Isn't Michael already in trouble, anyway? Come to think of it"—he glanced at Gabriel—"I thought he was supposed to be, too."

"He is," Raphael said before his brother could reply. "But this is a different type of danger. See, Michael's now human, and—"

"Wait, what?" His eyes widened in alarm. "What do you mean she's been turned human?"

Raphael's mouth twitched slightly. "Apparently Nithael had the bright idea to take matters into her own hands and decided to punish Michael herself. We need to talk to God so She can make her an angel again once Raziel finds her."

The Metatron's mouth gaped open as he stared at the two Archangels. What surprised Gabriel the most was the fear beginning to show in his eyes. "I... I'm sorry, but I simply can't let you pass!" He got up from his chair and began to shove Raphael and Gabriel out of his office. "But thank you for coming! And when you see him, tell my brother that I'm very disappointed in him."

"Wait—"

The slam of the door cut Raphael off. He groaned and turned to Gabriel. "You don't suppose he'll answer if I knock, do you?"

Gabriel shook his head. "I tried to tell you this would be a waste of time. I actually tried to speak with Her recently and I'm pretty sure you can guess what happened."

Raphael now looked thoughtful. "Huh. Interesting. Come to think of it, I can't remember the last time _anyone_ has spoken to Her. Even Michael couldn't get an appointment with Her."

Now that Raphael mentioned it, it _was_ rather strange. Privacy was privacy, but even Gabriel hadn't heard or seen Her since the film adaptation of _The Sound of Music_ first premiered in theaters. _Even before that, She's always been a little quiet._

"I have a theory," Raphael announced. "And I'm going to need Sandalphon's help to see if I'm right."

"Sandalphon? But won't Raguel be mad?"

"It'll only be for a minute," Raphael said reassuringly. But then there was a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

_I have a bad feeling about this._

* * *

It took much convincing, but Raphael was eventually able to get Sandalphon out of the courtroom by saying that the Metatron wanted to speak to him. He hated lying, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"So, why did my brother want to speak to me?" Sandalphon asked as they walked to the Voice's office. "Not that I don't want to, but I thought he wanted nothing to do with me right now."

"You're right, he doesn't," Raphael said. "In fact, he's very disappointed in you "

Sandalphon looked hurt now. "He is?"

"Yes, but that's not why I got you out. What I need you to do is distract him while I break into the throne room."

Sandalphon stared at him in disbelief and gave a flat, "What."

Raphael ignored his questions as they kept walking, and they soon reached the door to the Voice's office. "Now remember, don't tell him about any of this." He knocked on the door before Sandalphon could protest.

The Metatron soon appeared before them and looked at the two angels in surprise. "You again, Raphael?" When his eyes fixed solely on Sandalphon, he asked, "And why did you bring my brother here?"

Sandalphon opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly stopped by Raphael. Leading the two angels inside, he said, "I told Sandalphon how you were disappointed in him and he wanted to defend himself."

" _Defend_ himself?" the Metatron echoed with a scoff and turned his attention to the other former human. "I think you're long past that, don't you think? Do you even know what I had to tell Mother and Father when they asked about you earlier, Elijah? And what's this I hear about—"

As the Metatron was busy reprimanding Sandalphon, Raphael took the opportunity to rush to the throne room's large golden doors and placed a hand on them. "Make these doors open quietly," he muttered, and quickly entered the room as soon as they did, closing the doors behind him.

Though Raphael hadn't been in here in a long time, it was just as beautiful as he remembered—the room was large and had white and gold walls and columns that stood proudly, a skylight that showed the twinkling stars above, and there were three magnificent golden thrones right in the center of it; the Holy Spirit was usually left to Their own devices and the Son always preferred to be with His Earthly friends and family.

 _But where's the Father?_ This was where She usually was, right? Raphael looked around and soon realized there weren't any Throne angels nearby, either. In fact, the lack of a sweet scent usually emitted by celestial beings suggested no one had been in here for some time.

And apparently, that included God.

Which meant...

 _Why did I have to be right?_ Instead of feeling angry or scared like he thought he would be, Raphael felt only a strange emptiness within him. Still, questions lingered, such as, _How long has the Almighty been gone?_ and _Where is She now?_ and _Were we really about to fight a war on behalf of someone who isn't even here?_

And more importantly, how was Michael supposed to get back home now?

But at least one thing remained clear: the so-called Voice of God had _alot_ of explaining to do.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we get to Michael!

"Is she awake yet?"

"No. But patience is a virtue, my dear. She'll wake up soon, I'm sure."

Michael could've sworn the English accents sounded familiar.

So she was still alive. Good. But where had Nithael sent her? Michael slowly opened her eyes to see herself surrounded by shelves filled to the brim with books. She'd been lying on a comfy sofa, and someone had placed a cup of tea and a plate of crepes on a small table in front of her.

Wait. Books, crepes... _Oh God, please don't tell me I'm in—_

"Ah, you're awake at last. Now what did I tell you, Crowley?"

Michael nearly jumped as Aziraphale entered the room. He flashed her a kind smile while Crowley trailed just behind him and wrapped a protective arm around him; though he had his sunglasses on, Michael just knew he was glaring at her.

"I hope rest did you some good," Aziraphale said. "We wouldn't want you to overstay your welcome, would we?"

Ah, so _that's_ how it was going to be. Oh, how tempting it was to at least yell at them, to let them know that they not only ruined her life, but the lives of the other Archangels as well. Maybe she should've been a better leader, but _Aziraphale_ was still the one who fell out of line. All because he couldn't let go of his precious Earth.

But a part of her—a much larger one—really didn't want to. They wouldn't understand. They'd only try to defend their selfish actions again, and it was already clear to her that neither of them cared much for the consequences anyway. And if she wanted to get away from them as soon as possible, why give them any sort of power over her?

"Thank you for your kindness," Michael forced the words out as she stood. _Thank God I can speak again._ "Now, if either of you could show me the door, I'll just be on my way."

Crowley stepped in front of Aziraphale. "Now hold on. Just what are you doing in the bookshop, anyway?"

"Yes," Aziraphale added, looking over the demon's shoulder. "As I recall, didn't both Heaven and Hell agree to leave us alone—or so Crowley told me, that is."

"As though I would want anything to do with either of you!" she snapped. Normally she'd explain herself in a calm manner, as she'd done with several assignments when she presented herself to them, but why should she show even an inch of pacifism to these two idiots, especially when one of them was being so aggressive? Besides, she couldn't just tell them the truth, could she?

The laughter she'd receive if she did would be _relentless_.

"That still doesn't explain why you're here," Aziraphale replied. For a moment, Michael thought she heard annoyance in his tone. "Did you come here by accident?"

Did he think she was still a squab? Besides flying, transportation was one of the first things an angel learned! But what other explanation could she give? Sighing, she reluctantly said, "Yes. That's exactly how I got here."

Crowley coughed, though it was no doubt to cover up his amusement. Aziraphale however didn't seem very convinced.

"I got distracted on my way to an assignment," she told them quickly, "and in doing so, I must've accidentally transported to your bookshop here."

"And showing up unconscious?" Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. "I don't recall that ever being a side effect to transportation."

"Yes, well, maybe if you were more of an angel, you'd know these things." One last jab, and then she'd be out of here.

"He's twice the angel any of you will ever be!" Crowley growled. Michael was unfazed by this reaction, though she thought the demon was going to attack her if Aziraphale hadn't held him back.

If only there'd been someone to do the same to _Nithael_. Whatever the little demon had done to her didn't seem too damaging, but she hoped she'd been arrested so she could execute her herself. _If I can't get either Aziraphale or Crowley, then I can at least get_ her _._

Michael silently watched the pair, and even she had to admit how touching it was to see Aziraphale murmur tenderly to Crowley, how close they held each other. One didn't need to be an angel to tell how much these two loved each other.

 _Huh. That's strange._ The more she thought about it, the more Michael realized she couldn't actually sense any affection coming from them. _And I can't smell them, either._ What did Nithael _do_? Could she have...?

No. No, that was impossible. No demon was capable of such a thing, otherwise they would've flaunted their power a long time ago.

 _But it would explain some things. Only one way to find out._ Michael glanced at a nearby lamp that was off and put all her focus into it. _Let there be light!_

Nothing. Such a simple miracle, and it did _nothing_.

Maybe she had to snap? It usually wasn't necessary, but it was worth a try.

Much to her horror, that didn't work, either.

"Michael, are you alright?" Aziraphale asked. She had nearly forgotten the traitors were still here. "You're shaking like a leaf."

"F-fine," she stammered as she tried to force herself to calm down by taking deep breaths.

"Perhaps Crowley should warm up your tea?"

"Ngk!" Michael guessed that was Crowley's way of protesting.

"The sooner she's calmed down," she heard Aziraphale whisper to him, "the faster she'll leave."

"I'm _fine_ , Aziraphale," she insisted, but her voice was still shaky despite her best efforts. She was fine.

She was alive, so she was fine.

Yes, the lower spheres were against her and yes, Raziel now knew her deepest secrets, and _yes_ , she'd been turned human by a demon, but she was _fine_!

"You're _what_!?"

Michael snapped out of her thoughts to see the pair gaping at her. _Did I say that aloud?_

"Can demons do that?" Aziraphale asked Crowley.

"If we can, it's a surprise to me." To Michael, he asked, "Alright, which member of the Dark Council did you end up angering? Also, how concerned should Aziraphale and I be?"

"What makes you think I angered someone on the Council?"

"Well, you're... you, for starters."

"Crowley!" Aziraphale chided.

"What? Don't tell me you weren't thinking the same thing, angel."

"Er, well..."

Michael scowled. Of all the places Nithael could've sent her, why did it have to be _here_? Even _America_ would've been preferable! "No one on the Dark Council did this to me," she said evenly. "And that's all I'll say on the matter." She really didn't want to stay longer than she needed to, and besides, she doubted they could help her get back home, anyway.

Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other, but both gave understanding nods.

"If that's what you wish," Aziraphale said. "But at least tell us if this affects us at all."

"I don't think it does."

Crowley curled his lip. "You don't _think_ it does? Oh well, that's _very_ comforting."

"Well, what do you want me to say?" Michael snapped. "'Yes, Nithael is out to destroy you both, and—'" She realized too late she'd dropped a name, but the traitors' expressions were blank. "Neither of you know who Nithael is, do you?"

Aziraphale shook his head.

"Just because _you_ might know every name in Heaven doesn't mean _we_ do," Crowley said. "And anyway, why would an angel be after you? Again."

"Except she's _not_ an angel!" was her angry reply. "She's a literal demon who seems hell-bent on ruining my life by any means necessary!"

There they were again, the blank expressions.

Michael let out a frustrated sigh. "Oh, forget it." They probably thought she was crazy. _They have no reason to trust me, anyway,_ she reminded herself. "Well, if that's all, I'll best be on my way."

She was almost at the door when Aziraphale said, "Wait just a moment, Michael."

Crowley slapped his forehead and muttered, "We were almost rid of her."

"What is it, Aziraphale?" she asked in her best 'make this quick' voice.

The principality approached her with caution, as though he were afraid she was going to bite. "Well, what do you plan to do now?"

Planning! Yes! What she was most good at. Only she didn't really have one in full detail right now because she was still trying to process the fact that she was now human and had reunited with the two beings she never wanted to see again, but she figured she'd come up with one soon.

But she couldn't just admit that aloud, could she? She respected herself too much to do so.

So she said the first thing that came to mind: "I was thinking of stopping by a local church to pray. Someone will hear me in the Lord's house, surely."

Aziraphale didn't seem very certain. "And in the meantime?"

"Meantime?"

"It's just... you can't be all too sure of these things, you know," the angel tried to explain. "Maybe you won't get an answer right away, for instance. And if that turns out to be the case..."

Crowley stood beside his partner. "I think what Aziraphale is trying to say is, do you even know the first thing of what it even means to be human?"

Now Michael was confused. "Eat, sleep, sin, and hope to survive another day before finally dying?"

Aziraphale rubbed his forehead. "Oh, dear."

She rolled her eyes. "What does it even matter? I'm not staying here for long."

"But you mentioned the third sphere is currently against you," the principality pointed out. "And aren't the angels—the lowest rank, that is—in charge of prayers?"

 _Now_ she understood. "You think they won't want me back? That's ridiculous!" If for nothing else, Raguel still had to carry out her judgement, even if the verdict was already quite obvious.

 _But what if this_ is _your punishment? What if the principalities were in on Nithael's plan all along? What if_ Aziraphale _is?_

"Come now, Crowley. She'll be helpless."

She was snapped her out of her thoughts again, and any worries she had were quickly replaced by annoyance. _Helpless_ _?_ Was Aziraphale always this patronizing?

"Absolutely not, angel!" Crowley protested, his arms crossed. "Look, she clearly doesn't want our help, anyway. And I for one can't stand the thought of you being around those who've hurt you."

As Aziraphale murmured something to Crowley again and caressed him, Michael felt a pang in her chest; the feeling was beginning to become all too familiar now.

 _It doesn't matter!_ she reminded herself. They didn't want her here, anyway. Or at least Crowley didn't. _And I'd rather die than accept any help from the damn Serpent of Eden!_

While the two were busy, Michael finally reached the door and tried to pull it open, but she was surprised it didn't work. Strange. Aziraphale must've changed it, then. So, she tried pushing, but that didn't work, either. _Did the stupid angel enchant it or something?_ "Aziraphale!" she barked. "Be a dear and open this door for me, would you?"

Aziraphale looked at her, confused. "Did you try pulling?"

"Yes! And pushing. I can't seem to get it open."

The angel's brow furrowed. "Hm." He approached the door and pulled it open, and Michael's eyes widened when it worked just fine for him.

"You know, I'm beginning to think you're probably right, angel," Crowley said. He wasn't even trying to hide his laughter.

Michael decided it was best to simply ignore him. "Right. Well, good d—Ow!" She'd only taken a step out the door before she felt a jolt of electricity coursing through her. _What was that?_ "Very funny, Aziraphale. Now let me go!"

But Aziraphale seemed just as surprised as she was after he'd been able to step out just fine. "I-I'm not doing anything. Um, Crowley?"

The demon raised his hands. "Hey, I want her gone as soon as possible. Why would I want to keep her from leaving?"

So if neither of them were doing anything, what was going on?

And then it struck her—Nithael had said she wanted to teach her a lesson, and since this all started with Aziraphale...

_Oh, damn it!_

She wasn't on Earth at all, but in her own personal circle of Hell. _And these two are my torturers._


	4. Chapter 4

Haniel was too lost in his own thoughts to really pay attention to the current proceedings. Uriel and Sandalphon didn't really need his help to make fools of themselves, anyway.

He just couldn't get it out of his head that Nithael—small, largely insignificant Nithael—was able to come up with such a powerful transformation spell. Once the shock had worn off however, he'd secretly admitted to himself to being impressed. Largely so, in fact. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized he wasn't really that upset over Michael's disappearance. _Maybe I_ should _be grateful._

He never really liked Michael, not since she'd banished Raphael to Pompeii after he interrupted Gabriel's promotion ceremony. Fair enough that he had to be punished after such an embarrassing display, but _banishment_? Now that just seemed like a step too far. Surely she had to have known how this would've affected her reputation?

But of course she hadn't, because nothing had come out of it.

 _Because no one had spoken out._ Now he wondered what would've happened if someone had. Still, he couldn't be too mad about it. The punishment _did_ help bring him and Raphael together, after all; as far as Haniel was concerned, that was one of the two good things Michael had ever done.

The second had been when she'd stepped back from most of her duties and passed them onto Gabriel, who made it his first act to bring his brother back home. And then he too followed his sister onto a path of corruption.

Haniel almost wished Nithael had gotten to him and the others before she was caught. She would've been doing the rest of them a large favor. And the Archangels had clearly lost favor with God, otherwise how else had Aziraphale survived, if not due to Divine Intervention? Maybe they should get rid of the whole seraph rank entirely.

 _And then what? Let the cherubim follow in their footsteps? What Heaven needs is proper order. We need to work together._ Which was precisely why he'd tried subtly urging Raphael to take command over the years, but Haniel could never tell if he was being oblivious to his advice or if he just didn't want to take over.

So after some time, Haniel had thought about what it would be like if _he_ were in charge—only a thought, nothing more. Yet this was the one secret he kept from Raphael; for as much as he loved the healer, he could be very judgemental sometimes. _And I definitely can't tell him now! He'll think I knew what Nithael was up to._

Their relationship was already on the rocks, he didn't need his partner to be _hating_ him, too. Although, in hindsight, perhaps he _should_ have taken a different approach on how to handle the Archangels. He hadn't even known who Aziraphale was until the day of the failed execution, besides him being the principality of England. Raziel had suggested going on strike, but Haniel had dismissed the idea immediately.

Now part of him wished he hadn't.

"Guilty!" a chorus of angels from all ranks rang out from the jury.

The trial. Right.

Uriel's face was completely unreadable, but Sandalphon looked like he was trying to hold back tears.

 _He was human once,_ Haniel reminded himself. _Of course_ he'd be the most upset. Sandalphon had worked hard to climb through the ranks, and now that would all come crashing down in a single day. Haniel almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

"It is decided, then," Raguel said. "Sandalphon. Uriel. You two shall henceforth be demoted to the lowest rank and stationed to separate countries. I will assign each of you a supervisor until I can trust you to handle yourselves. So help you God." She banged her gavel on the sounding block and called for another recess, and no one on the jury save for the seraph Abdiel glanced at the defendants as they spilled out of the jury box.

"They're getting off too lightly," Haniel heard the archangel Mitzrael whisper to the head power Camael, who nodded in agreement. Amaliel, the angel of punishment, glared at Raguel in disgust before following them.

Haniel sympathized with their frustrations, but what else could Raguel have done? The principalities all agreed using Hellfire was out of the question when they were planning, so demotion was the next best thing.

"They're unhappy," Raguel observed, walking beside Haniel out of the courtroom.

"They're simply going to have to deal with it," he said. "We're not murderers, Raguel."

The angel of justice stayed silent, and she kept her eyes straight ahead. This would've concerned Haniel had it not been for her saying, "I do hope Raziel finds Michael soon. It's such a shame what happened to her, don't you think?"

 _Is she testing my loyalty?_ he thought. Haniel wasn't sure what answer to give her, but he _did_ have the urge to get away from her as quickly as possible in order to avoid this conversation. Suddenly it felt like he'd been walking for hours. Was Heaven always this vast? Were the halls always so... empty? _Now I understand why Aziraphale preferred Earth._

He finally opened his mouth to say something— _anything_ , really—when he saw Cerviel running up to them. _Thank God._

Cerviel, like Raguel, was a leader of the principalities, though they both answered to Haniel since he was the oldest out of the three of them. _Unlike_ their siblings, Cerviel was more interested in helping Raziel with the _Observer_ than watching over an entire nation.

There'd been two others who were meant to help him, but bold Amael had been killed long ago while protecting a small village from Hellhounds, and cautious Seeliah had somehow gotten involved with the original rebels, before Heaven had the structure it did now and the angels had only been given a _very_ vague idea of what their future roles as principalities would mean once Earth was created. The next time Haniel saw her, she'd somehow managed to become worshipped as an Assyrian god of agriculture called Nisroch.

 _We lost so many good angels thanks to Lucifer's jealousy._ Haniel didn't like to think about the Falls often, and it'd been recommended to not speak of the demons as they had once been. They were to be considered dead once Fallen.

Michael had apparently failed to abide by her own advice. But try as he might, he couldn't really be mad at her for this one, or Aziraphale for that matter. He'd give anything to even have just _one day_ with a Fallen loved one without having to fight them.

 _What if there was a way to reverse it?_ He wasn't the first angel to think of such a thing, and he doubted he'd be the last. Still, now that the Apocalypse had been postponed and the lower spheres had risen up against their superiors, _anything_ seemed possible now.

"Right, Haniel?"

He hadn't realized Cerviel had been speaking to him until now. "Hm?"

Cerviel pouted. "You weren't even _listening_?"

Raguel laughed. "I'm sure he didn't mean to offend, dear. He simply has alot on his mind right now. _Right_ , Haniel?"

"Oh, you mean like what's happened with Michael?"

Haniel and Raguel stopped dead in their tracks and looked at their friend in shock.

"Raziel told me," Cerviel explained, scratching the back of their neck. "But I'm not gonna tell anyone, I swear!"

"You mean like how you _didn't_ tell Nithael about the trial?" Raguel asked dryly as she crossed her arms.

"I said I was sorry!"

"Well, sorry isn't going to bring Michael back, _is it_?"

Haniel stood in between them. "Enough, both of you." To Raguel, he said, "Fighting amongst ourselves isn't going to bring her back, either. It's like Nithael said, we just need to wait forty months for the curse to wear off."

"You trust her?" Raguel asked.

Haniel scoffed. "Not on my life! But what choice do we have? Although, I suppose interrogating her wouldn't hurt."

Cerviel's eyes shined. "Oh, can I be Bad Cop? I can be aggressive if I want to!"

"Actually..." Raguel began, looking away from her co-leaders. "I'm afraid neither of you will get to have the chance to question her. Belphegor arrived earlier because he needed her to work, and..." She drew a deep, shuddering breath, as though she were now regretting her decision.

"It's okay, Raguel!" Cerviel said, hugging her. "We understand. Right, Han?"

Haniel forced himself to nod. _I understand, but she should've spoken to me first!_ Just like she should've spoken to him about letting Nithael be part of the jury in the first place. "Did you make sure to silence her?"

"Yes."

"Then there's nothing to be ashamed of." He really hoped this was true. "So!" Haniel turned to Cerviel with a smile. "What was it you were saying earlier, Cerviel? I'm sorry for not paying attention."

The younger principality's face lit up. "Well! You know how some countries have a democracy?"

"Yes...?"

"I was thinking we could have something like that! God would still be in charge of course," they added quickly, "but there'd be an elected council of angels, too. One from each rank. That way, everyone has a say through a representative."

" _I_ think it's a horrible idea," Raguel said. "We're not humans. And I don't even want to imagine all the arguing that would come from such a plan." She winced, as though she were indeed imagining all the arguing that would come from such a plan.

"You have a better idea?"

"I'll let you know when I do."

The playful banter went back and forth, much to Haniel's amusement. He wasn't sure if something like an elected council could work, but Cerviel had a point in that it was time for a change in structure. And even _Hell_ had their own council, so why shouldn't they?

He was about to voice his thoughts, when he saw Raziel approach them. Hopefully he had news on Michael.

"I think I know where Michael is!" announced the angel of mysteries.

"Hush!" Raguel hissed and looked around. "You never know who could be listening."

Raziel nodded, and whisked them all away to his office. There were a few framed newspaper clippings here and there on different things the archangel had reported on that went back to at least the 18th century, and a few old camera models in display cases that Haniel didn't recognize. In the corner, there was a rack which hung several newsboy caps.

"Well, Raziel?" Raguel prompted. "You said you _think_ you know where she is?"

He nodded. "But I think my theory is a strong one. Nithael wanted to punish Michael, right? Well, what better way to do that than to send her to the traitor's home?"

"You think she's in Soho?" Haniel asked. If that was true, then did Nithael plan to torture Michael, or Aziraphale?

"I'm still waitin' for Noriel to get back to me, but yeah. I thought it made the most sense."

Haniel smiled at him. Despite his worries, he still had to be grateful. "Thank you, Raziel. Please make sure to call Aziraphale as well if he's seen her. I'm sure Noriel could use the extra help. And I'll inform Raphael in the meant—"

"What if we don't tell him?"

Haniel jerked his head to Raguel, shocked.

"I'm just saying," she continued, "maybe this is for the best. Michael was supposed to be punished, and Nithael has done just that. And what better punishment can there be than turning her human?"

"What you suggest is treason!" Haniel growled. He would _never_ trick Raphael like this. For all their disputes, he knew the Archangels loved each other very much.

"A little too late for that, don't you think? And weren't _you_ the one who wanted to... what was it you said? 'Knock those prissy Archangels off their golden thrones once and for all?'"

Haniel winced. He _did_ say that. _She_ was _testing my loyalty, then. My loyalty to the cause!_ "That doesn't mean we can just leave her like this!"

"And we won't," Raguel reassured him. "Some humans have a guardian angel, right? Why don't we just give one to Michael until the forty months are over?"

"And possibly cause panic throughout Heaven?" This was quite possibly the worst idea Raguel had ever had.

"Who said we needed to tell anyone outside this room?" Raguel then looked at an anxious Raziel.

"You can't be serious!" Raziel said. "I'm pretty sure I'm not even qualified to be a guardian anymore!"

"Hmph. Are you saying that because you mean it, or because you just don't want to own up to your role in Michael's mortality?"

He stayed silent and avoided her gaze.

"Yes, that's what I thought. What do you think, Cerviel?"

The younger principality flinched and looked between Haniel and Raguel. "I... Uh..."

 _Poor thing,_ Haniel thought. _They shouldn't need to get involved in this._ Not to mention, they couldn't keep a secret even if their life depended on it.

"I-I think it might be a good idea," they said at last. "But _only_ for Michael, right?"

"Of course," Raguel replied. "She's the eldest, and therefore has the most to learn. Hopefully this whole experience will teach her a lesson in humility, and the younger ones will follow in her footsteps. And the last thing she needs is to get distracted by her brothers. Haniel, I'm telling you, this is a _good_ thing. Trust me."

He still wasn't entirely sure. "I still don't want to keep this a secret from Raphael, though." It disgusted him that _this_ was his main concern, but he couldn't help it.

"I understand." Raguel said no more after that and left the office. Cerviel reluctantly followed her, shooting sympathetic glances at Haniel and Raziel on their way out.

There was an awkward silence then, which was only broken by a groan from Raziel. "I hope you're happy!" he growled at Haniel.

He really, really wasn't.

"Welcome, by the way," the archangel added.

He was almost afraid to ask. "To what?"

"To the consequences of your actions!"


	5. Chapter 5

Raphael thought about how best to approach the situation: calmly or harshly. And considering the circumstances, he ultimately decided on the latter.

"Tell me where God is, or I'll get Raziel!" he told the Metatron as soon as Sandalphon was sent back to Raguel.

The Voice's face was blank. Okay, so clearly he wasn't as good at threatening as he used to be. "I've truly no idea what you're referring to, Raphael."

He was just making things harder on himself now.

"This is sad for you, really," he continued. "First you use my own brother against me, then you break into the throne room, and now _this_? Aren't you supposed to be the nice one?"

The 'nice' one. _Is that all I'm known for here?_ Raphael thought. Not that he was complaining, but— _Wait, no! Focus!_ The Metatron was crafty, he had to give him that. "I'm serious here, Metatron! If you don't at least tell me why you kept God's disappearance a secret, then I'll have no choice but to arrest you on grounds of high treason."

He was sure Raguel or any other justice angel didn't want to deal with yet _another_ case, and oh, the absolute _panic_ this would cause! He didn't even want to think about what it would mean if Hell found it.

The Metatron seemed to understand the consequences as well, as his face at last started to crumple afterwards. "A-alright. I'll tell you everything I know. I promise."

* * *

"It started just a little after El—Sandalphon and I arrived in Heaven. As you know, I was Michael's apprentice and—"

"Is this going to take long?" Raphael asked, tapping his finger on the Metatron's desk. He didn't mean to sound impatient, but when the Voice said he'd start at the beginning, he didn't think he'd go this far back.

"It's relevant!" snapped the former human. "As I was saying, I was Michael's apprentice, so I was able to get close to God through her. Apparently the Almighty was so impressed with me that I became Her Voice after only three months of being an angel."

Raphael remembered that day. Michael had pretended to be happy, but then he'd heard her vent to Gabriel sometime later. He tried to get her to open up to him once, but then she'd snapped at him to leave her be and that'd been the end of it. "I still fail to see what this has to do with anything."

"Well, after I became Her Voice, I started seeing Her less and less. Sometimes I'd go _months_ without even hearing from Her. I didn't want to worry anyone, so I..." He trailed off, as though he were too ashamed to continue.

But he didn't need to. "Let me guess, you kept on saying She was too busy to talk to anyone?"

The Metatron nodded. "The last time I spoke to her was sometime in 1965. She'd just come back from seeing that one musical film with the nun and loved it so much, I figured playing the songs from it would make Her stay longer."

Well, that explained the fixation with _The Sound of Music_ , at least. Raphael liked the musical just fine, but if he had to listen to _Do-Re-Mi_ during choir practice one more time, he'd quit.

"It only worked for so long. Until the end of that year, I think. I haven't heard from Her since. Not even on the day of the Apocalypse."

So they _were_ about to fight a war on behalf of an absent king. Raphael continued to tap his finger, thinking of what to say. What _could_ he say? The Metatron already seemed guilty as far as he could tell, so there was no use in scolding him. _Besides, the fault is really with God._ His relationship with the Almighty had grown distant the more She decided to test the humans' faith and loyalty, but the thought of Her having possibly abandoned Her angels still made him feel uncomfortable.

"I never meant to hurt anyone," the Metatron said. "I'd truly hoped God would come back in time for the war, that maybe She'd simply been preparing the Kingdom for the humans. But I suppose I was wrong. And before you ask, I've no idea where She could've gone, either."

That was when Raphael decided this had indeed been a waste of time. "Does anyone else know about this?"

He shook his head. "No, though I imagine the Thrones might suspect _something_ is off."

 _I'll probably have to have a talk with Suria and Chamyel,_ Raphael thought. Later, of course. He didn't want to annoy Raguel any more than he already had.

So, now what? God was gone, and She'd been his only hope in having Michael become an angel again. He didn't know whether to be angry or disappointed.

 _Or maybe I don't need God after all._ Surely Her Son was just as powerful? Or maybe he could try to get a hold of the Holy Spirit. Did either of them even _know_ that the Almighty hadn't been in Heaven for several years?

"Now, if that's all, would you please get out of my office?" The Metatron returned to his usually stoic manner, as though he hadn't just revealed that the Creator wasn't here.

Raphael simply nodded wordlessly and left. But as he walked back to his office, realization hit him: how was he ever going to explain this to Gabriel?

* * *

Raphael decided to just come right out and say it. "God's not here, and She hasn't been here since 1965. "

Gabriel had taken it about as well as he expected. Which was to say, not well at all. So much so, that the imp-shaped stress toy he'd been tightly squeezing for the past few minutes had completely deflated. "Any more surprises I should know about?" he asked, his voice strained and eye twitching.

Raphael wanted to comfort him, but he didn't think all his years in studying therapy had prepared him for what to say when it was discovered that one's all-powerful parental figure had disappeared for less than a century. Still, he had to at least try. "Um... it'll be okay?"

"Okay!?" Gabriel jumped out of his seat and slammed his fist onto Raphael's desk. "How can you say that? How can _anything_ ever be okay after today?"

 _Poor choice of words._ Raphael decided to try again, until he saw Gabriel slowly sit back down and bury his face in his hands.

"Was I really that bad of a manager?" He didn't seem to be expecting an answer.

So, Raphael didn't give him one. He didn't want to encourage him, but _discouragement_ didn't seem like the best option, either. Although, as far as he was concerned, this really was all Michael's fault for letting Gabriel bear her burdens in the first place. She should've never given him a position of power before he was ready.

Or at all.

"Come," he said instead as he helped his brother stand up. "Why don't we take a walk to clear our heads?"

Gabriel scoffed. "What, and get glared at by the other angels? No thanks!" After a moment, he said, "Why don't we just focus on finding Michael. Okay?"

Raphael nodded. "If that's what you want, dear."

"It is! And I don't think we should wait for Raziel, either."

Raphael's green eyes widened. "You don't trust him?"

"Honestly? I'm having trouble trusting anyone these days."

 _Even me?_ Raphael wanted to voice his thoughts, but almost immediately decided against it. _Just give him his space, Raphael._ It seemed like asking Jesus for help was out of the question as well.

"Now, let's get to work, shall we?" Gabriel's voice was now far more cheerful as he miracled a miniature globe into his hands. "Oh, and don't tell Haniel about this, alright?"

Raphael was beginning to feel uncomfortable at the thought.

Gabriel noticed, and gave him a pitying look. "I know he's your partner, Raph, but we can't afford to take any risks. You understand, right?"

He did. That didn't mean he had to like it. But, not seeing any other option, the healer simply nodded in silence.

More secrets.

More lies.

 _What has my life become?_ He could almost hear Asmodeus' shrill, mocking laughter.

"Great!" Gabriel smiled and placed the globe on the desk before spinning it around. "Now, I think we should go to Israel first."


	6. Chapter 6

The first thing Aziraphale did when he and Crowley got back from the Ritz was confess his love for him just outside his bookshop. It hadn't been anything grand like how it was in so many of his favorite books, just a simple, "I love you."

Crowley merely stood there frozen, so Aziraphale quickly led him inside. Oh dear, had he misread the signs? He was so _sure_ the demon had felt the same way. Hopefully they could still be friends.

His doubts were quickly put to rest when Crowley blurted out in rapid fashion, "I love you, too! I always have, ever since Eden!" He looked positively flushed.

"That long?" Aziraphale asked, offering him a drink of wine. Truly, he felt a little bad for not noticing much sooner. "It was during the Blitz for me. You remember the church?"

Crowley gave the grin Aziraphale had come to love so much. "You think I'd forget killing a trio of bloody Nazis while hopping around on holy ground, angel?"

They laughed, and then laughing led to more talking, and then talking had somehow led to kissing. It was clumsy, but Aziraphale wouldn't have had it any other way. And besides, they had the rest of their lives to get it just right.

The next day, Crowley had come by to show him a newspaper advertisement he'd seen for a cottage in South Downs. "We could check it out if you want."

But Aziraphale had smiled kindly and politely declined. He felt like it was much too soon to move in together, and besides, he'd miss his bookshop too much. "Next year?" he suggested. "Once we're used to this whole dating thing."

Dating. The word still felt strange on his lips, and so did boyfriend, but it also felt... right.

Crowley seemed a little upset at first, until Aziraphale kissed his cheek and agreed that waiting a year was for the best. And then they tried kissing again until Aziraphale had to welcome his first customer of the day (who was then later subtly thrown out when they tried to buy something). This kiss had been better than the last.

Over the following days, the two had decided to get to know Adam, what with having missed out on eleven years of his life and all. The boy was bright and almost always had a mischievous twinkle in his eye, but he was kindhearted and the love he had for his friends and family was clear. The more Aziraphale talked to him, the more he almost found it hard to believe that this child had once been destined to destroy the world.

 _Perhaps we should try getting in touch with Warlock next,_ the angel thought one day. And Crowley would never admit it, but he knew he'd felt a great deal of affection for their former charge even more than Aziraphale himself had.

So far, everything was perfect. No Heaven or Hell interfering with their lives, no upcoming Apocalypse, no attempted executions. Just Aziraphale and Crowley enjoying life on Earth for what it was and making new human friends along the way.

Just _perfect_.

Unfortunately, in his bliss, the principality had forgotten that perfection did not exist unless it was in reference to the Lord.

* * *

Darcy was just about to make his horrendous proposal to Elizabeth when it happened: a swirling portal had appeared on the ceiling, and the only reason Aziraphale had even noticed it was because of the screaming that seemed to be growing louder with each second. By the time the angel looked up, someone had fallen through and had landed safely onto the sofa beside him.

Aziraphale nearly dropped his book in trying to process what had just happened, and he slowly approached the strange, groaning newcomer.

After turning them over to get a good look, it didn't take long for him to step back. Her usually neat hair was now messy and loose, and her suit was a little wrinkled, but Aziraphale recognized her almost immediately.

He called Crowley at once.

* * *

So.

The Archangel Michael was trapped in his bookshop.

The Archangel Michael. Was trapped. In his bookshop.

The more Aziraphale told himself this, the more unbelievable it sounded. How could this have happened?

More specifically, how could this have happened to _him_?

Though, in all fairness, Michael wasn't too happy with it, either. "I'm going to rip that demon to shreds," she muttered to herself, sulking on the sofa. She kept on saying something to this effect for the past hour or so.

Aziraphale had only heard rumors of Michael's more... aggressive tendencies, and not counting the failed execution in Hell, this was probably the closest he would ever get to see it.

At least, he hoped so. The last thing he needed right now was a messy bookshop.

"So, how long do you think the wanker is going to stay here?" Crowley asked, not taking his eyes off Michael. He wasn't even trying to keep his voice down.

Aziraphale only shrugged as he considered getting in contact with Heaven. According to Michael, the second and third spheres—though mostly the third—had rebelled against the first after he and Crowley had swapped bodies in trying to save themselves.

He was some sort of hero in their eyes, and just the very thought filled the angel with absolute horror.

This second rebellion had been built on a _lie_. And he didn't even want to think what would happen if his fellow principalities knew the truth. No, maybe he shouldn't get in contact, after all. Something could slip.

"You two really know nothing of Nithael?" Michael asked them.

Aziraphale once again shook his head to the name of the angel—or demon—or _something_ —that had made his former commander this way. _Demon,_ the angel reminded himself. Nithael was a creature of Hell according to Michael. And one who had still held onto her God-given name, at that; very unusual indeed. Almost as unusual as turning an angel human. "Er..." he began, trying to gather his thoughts. "Perhaps _you_ could tell us?"

He half expected for Michael to snap at him or insult him, but she simply gave him a nod. _I suppose she's resigned herself to her fate._

She made room for the pair to sit beside her, and took a deep breath before beginning. "Nithael was one of the original rebels. A principality, technically speaking. I first officially met her in Egypt, when I was accompanying Moses to meet with Pharaoh."

Aziraphale and Crowley listened in silence, about how Nithael had taken the name Kiya while being married to Pharaoh and had a son with him. Unfortunately, that same son had been a casualty of the Tenth Plague.

"Let me guess," Crowley said, "she then vowed to torment you for the rest of your life?"

"Not in those exact words, but essentially yes. And I'll admit, I didn't take her seriously at first." Michael made a face, clearly regretting her decision. "You must understand, so many demons don't like me already—"

"Well, _that's_ an understatement if I ever heard one."

"—and I've gotten so many threats that ended up amounting to nothing, I figured one more wouldn't make any difference. After that, any more encounters I had with Nithael usually just resulted her in being nothing more but a mere nuisance. And then today happened, and..." She trailed off with a groan. "I'm such an idiot."

Aziraphale and Crowley quickly looked at each other, both amused, but neither made any comment.

"You wouldn't happen to have a place where I could pray, would you?" she asked after regaining composure.

So she was still wanting to contact Heaven. Well, she most certainly wasn't going to do it—Oh, right. Sighing deeply, Aziraphale quickly showed her to the wall crucifix nearby and said, "Crowley and I will leave you alone. Just call if you need anything."

Michael nodded gratefully, and Aziraphale quickly led Crowley outside before the demon could say anything.

"It's not possible for her to stay here forever, surely?" Aziraphale asked anxiously. Sure, _now_ Michael seemed polite, but what about later?

"I thought you _wanted_ to help her," Crowley pointed out.

"Yes, well, I didn't think she'd be trapped in my own shop!" This simply wouldn't do at all. "I'll have to be her guardian for now. Bring her food, teach her how to act around customers—"

"Or you could let Michael fend for herself," Crowley interrupted. "Besides bringing her food, of course. She's not your responsibility, angel."

"You're wrong, Crowley," Aziraphale said softly. "So long as she's in my shop, she is." Frowning as Crowley pulled him closer to him, the angel added in a cracking voice, "Oh, we were supposed to be left alone!"

"I know, angel," Crowley murmmered in his ear. "This isn't fair at all."

Life never was. They should've known that by now.

"Do you want me to stay with you?"

Aziraphale looked at his boyfriend and shook his head, though he _really_ wanted to do the opposite. "No, it'd be too cramped for you, I think." Though the demon never said it, he knew Crowley's flat was spacious for a reason, why he never stayed over for longer than a few hours.

"What about my place, then?"

"Crowley—"

"You'll still be at the bookshop to make sure she's doing alright and not selling anything," he said. "But you don't really expect her to be needing you 24/7, do you?"

He briefly thought about it, and soon realized that Crowley had a point. And besides, Michael certainly seemed more competent about Earth than... _other_ Archangels Aziraphale could name. Plus, this _would_ be good practice for when they eventually moved to South Downs. Yes, perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Aziraphale smiled. "Alright, then! I'll just make sure she's settled in first, and then I can move in with you in a few days." He kissed Crowley's cheek and said, "You are a _genius_ , my dear."

"Oh, I know." His voice was smug, but Aziraphale knew Crowley well enough by now to know he was grateful for the praise.

They then said their goodbyes, and Aziraphale went back inside when he could no longer see Crowley driving away.

The thought of living under the same roof as his demonic partner so soon made Aziraphale feel both nervous and excited. He tried to focus on this instead, yet it did nothing to lessen his worries regarding Michael. Would the lesser angels _really_ hear her prayers? The way she described her trial, it didn't seem like anyone would actually care enough to take her back. A part of him couldn't help but pity her.

And then he heard Michael gasp and happily exclaim, "Raziel!"

 _Oh, thank God!_ Aziraphale had never felt more glad to be wrong.


	7. Chapter 7

Aziraphale had tried to accept the situation as best he could.

So Michael was staying here for much longer than he'd liked. Fine.

So would the archangel Raziel, as her new guardian. Fine.

But did they _have_ to summon a demon into his shop? He already tried protesting, but neither Michael nor Raziel would listen. How rude of them! They were still his guests, after all. A little respect would be nice. And, for once, Aziraphale almost hoped a human would ignore the sign and walk in before the ritual could start.

But no one entered, and the time soon came for Raziel to draw Nithael's sigil in the summoning circle and light the candles.

"I'm still not sure about this," Aziraphale said, clutching onto the vial of holy water Raziel had handed him for reassurance.

"Do you have a better idea?" Michael asked as Raziel began chanting.

"Well, no, but—"

"Then be quiet!"

Aziraphale withheld a sigh. At least her politeness had been nice while it'd lasted. But was it going to be like this all the time? "This'll never work!" He knew most demons weren't like Crowley, and Nithael didn't sound like someone worth provoking. Any negotiating would surely come with a hefty price.

But of course, he was ignored once again. Why did he even bother?

Once the chanting stopped, the candles went out and the wax began to melt as the temperature in the room grew hotter. For angels, it was nothing more but a slight irritation, but for a human...

Raziel made his way to Michael's side just as she'd begun to cough and miracled a bottle of water. To Aziraphale, he said, "I'll make sure Michael's okay, you talk to your sister."

Sister. Aziraphale scoffed. He was never close to any of the angels in Heaven, least of all his fellow principalities. His so-called 'siblings' were nothing but complete strangers to him, which only made Haniel's rebellion all the more frustrating.

But this was still his shop. It was his job to welcome anyone in. _Even if that someone is a demon._

Soon enough, the circle began to glow an eerie green color and matching green flames rose up from it. The shadow of a small figure appeared from within it, growling. "Who dares disturb me?" they said in a guttural voice. The fire then died down, as did the room's hot temperature, and there stood what appeared to be a little girl dressed in black clothing. Her hair was in neat blonde ringlets and her green eyes widened as though she were in a candy shop when she met Aziraphale's gaze.

It would've been foolish to laugh, for Aziraphale knew better. The more innocent a demon appeared, the more dangerous they were.

Nithael stepped forward. "Brother Aziraphale?" Even her voice was now child-like.

Aziraphale only nodded, trying to ignore the 'brother' part. He wondered if the other Fallen principalities were like this.

She smiled widely. "It's an honor to meet you at last! Now, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

How to handle this? He could be direct, but that would risk angering her and setting everything on fire. Or perhaps he should be gentle... and then risk offending her and setting everything on fire. _Oh, dear._

"Erm..." he began. "I... think you already know why you're here."

She cocked her head. "Do I?"

"Yes. You know, with Michael and—"

"Oh, that!" Nithael giggled. "And you've summoned me to thank me. How nice of you. Ah, _finally_ , some respect."

Well, now _he_ was the one who was trapped. Wonderful.

Aziraphale forced himself to keep going. "N-not exactly. See, I was just wondering—"

"—if I could get Michael out of your shop?" Nithael's eyes shined as she finished Aziraphale's sentence. "I tease, my dear. I know what this is really about. As for my answer, no."

"M-may I ask why? This is more of a punishment for me, don't you think?"

"Ah, so this is about _you_ , then."

"That's not what I meant at all!" This demon was twisting his words around!

"That's quite enough, Nithael!" Michael walked in, now wearing bright, casual clothing with her hair up again. Raziel trailed after her.

Nithael studied the former Archangel from head to toe, a smile tugging at her lips. "Someone's already gone native, I see. Oh, how wonderful to know that my experiment has been such a success!"

Michael growled and was held back by Raziel. "Listen here, Nithael! You are going to change me back, or I'll—"

Nithael interrupted her with an exaggerated gasp. "Threatening a demon? Are you sure that's wise... _mortal_?" She hissed the last word with much venom, and her nails became slightly longer. More cheerfully, she added, "I'd watch my tongue if I were you."

Michael stared at her and seemed to be trying to relax. "Y-yes. Of course." Clearing her throat, she said, "Please, Nithael. If you won't let me return to Heaven, then _at least_ let me go outside."

"Humans need fresh air," Raziel added, his voice desperate.

Nithael shrugged. "Not my problem. And we both know that's a lie, Raziel. Now, if that's all—"

"What do you want?" The question left his lips before Aziraphale could really think it through. He wanted Michael out of his shop and out of his life, but to make a _deal_ with a demon just to get some peace and quiet? Good Lord, what was he _thinking_?

Before he could take it back, Nithael looked at him. "What I want is to get revenge on Michael. And I've done just that, even for a little while. But that is not what you mean, is it?"

Aziraphale shook his head, suddenly feeling a little awkward.

"Hm." The demon looked solemn. "What I want, angel—what I really, _truly_ want—is something no one will ever be able to give me."

For just a moment, the principality almost felt pity for her, almost reached out to her and almost gave her words of comfort.

He _almost_ did these things, and then he remembered what Nithael was. She was clearly a mischievous one and put him in this situation in the first place, so saying anything that sounded even remotely positive would probably seem like validation at best or just upset her even more at worst.

"However," Nithael added slowly, "I suppose it _would_ get rather boring if you have nothing to do after a few months."

Michael's eyes widened hopefully. "So?"

The demon smirked. "Tell you what. For each month that passes, I'll allow you one extra hour outside. But _only i_ _f_ you can prove to me you can be Good via monthly reports."

The former angel scoffed. "I'm an _angel_ , Nithael. I already know how to be Good. And what does a demon know about such things, anyway?"

Nithael raised an eyebrow. "Tell me, dear commander, what cometh before a fall?"

"Pride?"

Nithael nodded. "Precisely. I'm sure the last thing you want is to please my master if you keep up that sort of attitude. And Hell knows what a full leadership under that pretentious Gabriel would be like. Or even Haniel."

Aziraphale saw Raziel wince at the thought, and even the principality himself couldn't help but be uncomfortable with the idea. _Heaven would be in even more of a mess than it is now!_

"Say we agree to it," Raziel said. "What do _you_ get in return?"

"Nothing."

Well, _that_ was most certainly a lie.

Seeing their suspicious faces, Nithael added, "Like I said, there's nothing I want other than to get revenge on Michael, which has already happened. Think of this as a... _me_ owing _you_ sort of thing. Fair?"

Raziel glanced at Michael, some unspoken conversation happening between them before the older angel said, "I suppose that's fair. Aziraphale?"

Aziraphale simply nodded. At least it was better than nothing.

"Wonderful!" Nithael snapped her fingers, and the door to the bookshop opened. "You may go. But remember, it's only for an hour."

Michael gave a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

Aziraphale watched her cautiously place a foot out of the bookshop, and Michael smiled at him when it was successful.

"Great," Raziel said. "Now let's go get you something to eat."

The two stepped out and the door shut behind them.

As he watched them go, Aziraphale was surprised to find he wasn't happy. Why wasn't he happy? _This was easier than I thought it would be._ But perhaps it'd been a little _too_ easy. "Nithael?"

"Hm?"

"What are you _really_ planning?"

The demon laughed again, and this time Aziraphale could see her little fangs. "Oh, wouldn't _you_ like to know!"

That didn't sound like a denial at all. She _was_ up to something, then. _I_ knew _calling her would be a horrible idea!_

"Now, I really _must_ be going," Nithael said as she stepped back into the middle of the circle. "Belphegor will have my wings if he finds I've been gone for too long. Literally! I shall see you in a month's time, brother."

"I'm not your—"

But Nithael was gone before he could finish his sentence.

Aziraphale sighed. _Everything happens for a reason._ Whatever that reason was, he just hoped it wouldn't lead to Hell winning at anything. On the bright side, at least he was finally alone.

He immediately got to destroying the circle and made a mental note to call Crowley again afterwards.


	8. Chapter 8

They tried something simple first. Specifically, an apple.

Michael had not been amused. She and Raziel were currently sitting in St. James's Park, and she was glaring at the fruit in her hand like it was a demon waiting to strike. "You're joking. I absolutely _refuse_ to soil my celestial body with the food of sin!"

Raziel rolled his eyes when she handed him the apple. "You don't _have_ a celestial body anymore, remember? And dontcha think you're bein' just a _little_ overdramatic?" _Or alot._

"Perhaps, but why an _apple_?"

"Because I thought it'd be funny."

"Well, _I'm_ not laughing."

 _That's because you don't have a sense of humor._ Raziel sighed. "Come on, Mike. It's just a fruit."

She glared at him, but no longer argued. Taking the apple back, Michael bit into it, chewed, and swallowed. "Hm."

"Well?"

She shrugged. "I suppose it's not the _worst_ thing I could've eaten as my first taste of human food."

Okay, it was _something_.

"I can certainly see why the first humans liked it, at least."

Raziel bristled. She couldn't even refer to Adam and Eve by their _names_! _Forty months, Raz,_ he told himself. _Forty months._ It'd been six thousand years, but he still held some affection for his first charges.

If Michael noticed his annoyance, she made no comment on it. Or maybe this was _her_ way of entertaining herself. Still, she kept eating even as she and Raziel got up to exit the park.

The archangel chuckled. "It's okay to admit you like it." When she didn't reply, he said more seriously, "Pride goeth before a fall, Michael."

This caused her to flinch. "I'll remember that for next time," Michael said, not looking at him. "Now, let's go back to the bookshop."

Raziel reluctantly followed her in silence.

* * *

"All I'm saying is, perhaps we should be more careful from now on."

"And we _will_ be. But until we know more, we'll have to play by her rules. Let her think she's winning before turning the tables on her."

Raziel listened as Aziraphale and Michael went back and forth as he pretended to be engrossed in a copy of _The Picture of Dorian Gray_. He already did his part in getting Michael out of the bookshop, and the less he got involved in her disputes, the better.

"But—"

"Aziraphale!" Michael's voice was now firm. "I understand your concern, but worrying about the future won't do anyone any good, either. This is _my_ punishment, and I will handle it as I see fit."

Well, now she was just being stubborn. So maybe he _did_ need to get involved.

Michael sighed as she sat beside Raziel. "Don't say it."

Raziel turned the page. "Say what? That he has a point? That I once again have to remind you to curb your pride, or else you'll literally go straight to Hell if you die?"

"You're not helping."

"Do you want validation, or do you want to be kept safe? Besides," he added as he finally looked at her, "we're not in your world anymore. It's best you just listen to the Earth expert for now."

"This is more of an angelic matter than an Earthly one, don't you think?" she asked. "And I'm positive Aziraphale will be spending most of his time with Crowley while I'm here, anyway."

"What about his customers?"

"I don't think he gets many that often."

 _How does he keep this place open, then?_ Raziel shook his head. It wasn't his job to understand the ways of principalities. "Either way, I think we should work on your cover story if you're gonna be stayin' here for a long time."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "Cover story?"

Raziel grinned. This was always his favorite part whenever he went down to Earth. "Here's what I'm thinkin': you're a high class woman who's recently fallen on hard times. One day, you come across this quaint little bookshop that's coincidentally run by a distant relative of yours, and then—"

Michael raised a hand, eyes wide. " _Or_ I could just say I moved here recently and I'm staying with a friend for the unforeseeable future."

Raziel scoffed. "Sure, if you wanna be _boring_."

"Which is a _good_ thing in this case," Michael said. She actually seemed offended by Raziel's disagreement. "I don't want to draw too much attention to myself."

"Michael may have a point, Raziel," Aziraphale said, coming over with a cup of tea, which he'd handed to the archangel.

After taking a sip, Raziel asked him, "Well, what have _you_ done to hide your identity, Aziraphale?" He knew the principality had opened his shop during the Regency era, so surely _someone_ would've noticed something was off if he'd never changed his appearance in all that time.

Aziraphale looked thoughtful for a moment. "I think everyone simply assumes I'm my own descendant. Of course, it helps that I don't get many customers."

Raziel groaned. "You two are killin' me here." Where was the excitement of weaving a story, of playing a role on a larger stage? These two had no imagination whatsoever!

"Is he always this dramatic?" Aziraphale asked Michael.

"Unfortunately."

" _Anyway_ ," Raziel said sharply, "I also think we should start talkin' strategy. How are we gonna teach Michael here to be good?"

"I still think the request is completely ridiculous, even for a demon," Michael told him, crossing her arms.

"Okay, so are you gonna be playing by Nithael's rules or not? 'Cause it feels like I'm gettin' alot of mixed messages here if you're not willing to listen to Aziraphale, either."

Aziraphale reached out to gently touch his arm. "Patience, Raziel. It's been a trying day for Michael. I'm sure she just needs time to come to terms with what's happened today."

Who was he trying to convince?

"However, I do find myself agreeing with you. Of course, we'd need to figure out exactly what Nithael meant, and—Ah!" Aziraphale's face lit up at that moment. "I got it!"

Michael and Raziel glanced at each other when he got up to leave, and the shopkeeper came back a few minutes later with a few books.

Socrates

Plato.

Aristotle.

"Aziraphale, what is this?" Michael asked.

"Philosophy books."

"I can _see_ that! I meant why are you showing these to us?"

The principality now seemed slightly embarrassed. "I know this may not mean much to you, but Crowley introduced me to this one television program recently about this woman who must learn to be good in order to stay in her world's version of Heaven. Your predicament reminded me of it just now, so I simply thought it'd be a good idea to take inspiration from it."

As Raziel flipped through Plato, Michael said, "Well, this is surprising."

"That I want to use moral philosophy to help you?"

"No, that you know what television is."

"Be nice!" Raziel snapped. "And anyway, I don't think it's a bad idea." It was certainly worth a try, at least. And if these works had been helpful to humanity for centuries, then there was no reason to believe it couldn't help _them_ as well.

Michael however looked at the books in disgust. "Didn't many early philosophers support slavery?"

Aziraphale frowned. "I believe so, but we can always—"

"No thank you." More kindly, she said, "I appreciate the offer, Aziraphale, but I just don't think we'll have time to comb through all these texts. And besides, how hard can it possibly be to do good deeds, anyway?"

 _Again with the overconfidence!_ Whether she had a point or not, Raziel was sure Michael was just disagreeing for the sake of it. It was almost tempting to literally knock some sense into her. _We can't afford to be picky now._

"We'll start tomorrow, Raziel," she said. "And I suppose I can help out around the shop in the meantime. Is that alright with you, Aziraphale?"

Aziraphale's eyebrows were knitted together. "Er... yes, I suppose. Why don't we get a head start on book sorting?"

Michael nodded and went over to a bookshelf, and Aziraphale shared a glance with Raziel before going over to join her. The archangel of mysteries didn't need to read his mind to know they were thinking the same thing: _This is gonna be a very long forty months._


	9. Chapter 9

When Satan called Nithael to his office, she made sure to take her time. Normally it was best to not keep him waiting, but thanks to Raguel, she now had to either come up with another way to let him know the experiment had been a success, or lie and hope he wouldn't be furious enough to kill her.

No pressure.

 _Raguel said I couldn't tell my co-workers what happened,_ she thought. _So then, maybe I can just write it down? Or even just nod my head when he asks._ But surely the angel wouldn't be so stupid as to leave open such an easy loophole? _Then again, she was also stupid enough to allow me to see the trial, so I suppose anything's possible._

When she finally reached the large black doors, she saw Beelzebub coming out with an annoyed expression on their face. "Greetings, Nithael," they said. "You have an appointment?"

Nithael nodded and glanced at the door. Did they get into another argument with Satan? It seemed to be happening more often since the failed Apocalypse. "I-is he...?"

Beelzebub shrugged. "When izzz he ever calm?"

_How reassuring._

As they left, Nithael noticed the lord of flies walking with a slight limp. So Satan was only _mildly_ annoyed, then. A small comfort. _That'll have to be enough._

For just a moment, she thought about making sure Beelzebub made it back to their office safely, but stamped out the thought almost immediately. _I've been spending too much time in Heaven._ Beelzebub was one of the oldest demons in Hell. They could take care of themself, and Nithael didn't think they'd appreciate assistance from anyone who wasn't Dagon.

With a deep breath, she pushed open the door and bowed as soon as she was inside. "You sent for me, my lord?"

Satan didn't respond.

"Sir?" Nithael looked up to see him scribbling something down. _Why ask to see me if you're going to be busy?_ She was tempted to say such, but held her tongue and gave a cough instead.

After a moment, he finally glanced up from his work and seemed almost surprised to see her. "Ah, Nithael. Go on, take a seat."

She scurried over to the chair across from him and folded her hands neatly on the large desk. "Is this about my spell?" What a stupid question, _of course_ this was about her spell!

If Satan felt the same way, he didn't show it. "Indeed. Did it work?"

Nithael tried to nod, only to feel a stiffness in her neck. So maybe Raguel was indeed more clever than she gave her credit for.

"Nithael!" He sounded impatient. "Did it work or not? Or has a cat got your tongue?"

She laughed nervously. _If I had a coin every time I heard that phrase..._ "Oh, good one, sir! Have you ever considered—"

"I'll take that as a no." Satan sighed heavily and said, "So you've not only wasted your own time, but mine. What good are you to me, then?"

Hearing those words made Nithael tightly grip her hands together, though her smile never faltered. "Forgive me, sir. I will—"

"FORGIVE YOU!?" The demon king's deep voice echoed throughout the room as he stood. Bright flames engulfed him as he grew in size, and his skin was beginning to turn red. By now, the desk had incinerated. "YOU'VE BEEN SPENDING TOO MUCH TIME WITH THOSE PESKY ANGELS, _NITHAEL_!" He spat out her name with venom. "PERHAPS SOME TIME WITH THE HELLHOUNDS SHALL REMIND YOU OF YOUR ALLEGIANCE."

 _I_ knew _I should've chosen a new name._ Nithael fell to her knees, trembling. Images of the hounds flashed in her mind; the growling, the snapping of jaws... It wouldn't kill her, but just the very _thought_ of being around those beasts was enough to make her shudder. "I-I am loyal only to you, my lord." Raguel _had_ to have known what would happen with silencing her. _Those angels are far more ruthless than they like to admit._

Satan glowered at her, but slowly began to return to his humanlike form. "Why should I give you a second chance? In fact, why should I even bother letting you live after today?"

The question initially surprised Nithael, until she reminded herself who this was. _Satan can do whatever he wants, even if it means lowering our numbers by one more._ As far as her king was concerned, apparently she—a low-level demon—was expendable.

 _But I can't die now!_ Not when she still had to get revenge on Belphegor first. _Wait, that's it!_ It was very risky and there were so many details she'd actually have to take into consideration if Satan agreed, but she'd at least be alive. "I... I can create a similar spell to work on other demons!"

He stared at her. "Are you really admitting to treason right now?"

Nithael quickly shook her head. "Not treason, my lord! It's just... do we _really_ want another Crowley to happen?"

Satan growled at the traitor's name. "What's your point?"

She stood, but made sure to look as submissive as possible by slumping her shoulders. "My point is, sir, what if we begin to punish demons through more... creative means? As a last resort, of course. Torment them on Earth for a bit, and then kill them in their mortal forms should they continue to get out of line."

His anger had now been replaced with annoyance. "Why would I allow this, Nithael? I know this may be hard to believe, but I'd much prefer to _not_ be outnumbered by Heaven."

She didn't dare remind him of his earlier threat. "It doesn't necessarily have to come to that." For a moment, she thought of the condemned souls, so many of them praying to a God who would never come to their aid. "The damned, for instance. Just think of how amusing it would be if they were _forced_ to help our side. Especially the more religious ones."

"Hm." His expression was unreadable, but Nithael hoped he was at least considering it. "And what shall _you_ get in return?"

"Nothing, my lord!" Well, a seat on the Council still sounded nice, but even for a demon, making a deal with the Devil only ever led to trouble. And not the good kind. "The greatest reward I could ever receive is the satisfaction of serving you."

"And if it _does_ work? How do I know you won't use this against me?"

Nithael frowned. "Why would I want to? I'm not Beelzebub, sir."

For a moment, she thought she saw him flinch. Beelzebub had led their own little rebellion against Satan centuries ago and won, which led to them being promoted to their current position as second-in-command as a show of respect, as well as the creation of the Council. But this event also ended up confirming what they'd all suspected: Satan was weak, even against his own kind. To say so aloud, however, would be foolish. A few imps learned that the hard way.

"Very well," he said at last. "I will allow you to proceed with this project."

Nithael gave a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank you, sir!"

"But!" The flames surrounded Satan once more. "If I find out you've failed once again or have even _considered_ using this against me, IT WON'T BE THE HELLHOUNDS OR AN ABYSS YOU'LL HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT!" Sweetly, he added, "Do I make myself clear, darling?"

Nithael gulped. "Crystal, my lord."

"Excellent! Now, leave me to my work, but we'll continue this discussion later. And make sure not to take three thousand years this time, or however long it took you with the last one."

The little demon smiled and nodded. "Of course, sir! Thank you for this opportunity, my lord. You won't regret this!"

"Hmph! Make sure I don't."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, I'm working without a detailed outline here, so this chapter surprised me, including who the PoV character is. The Angels Batel and Adara are completely of my own creation and have no religious equivalent as far as I'm aware.

Most prayers usually went ignored because Heaven received so many, but when Batel thought about finally getting to answer some, she thought it'd be much more interesting than children wishing to get a specific toy, or adults wanting their favorite sports team to win. Still, it could be worse. _I could be on suit duty._ And from what she heard from the older Angels, Gabriel could be quite infuriating if someone didn't pick up his attire on time.

"Anything?"

Batel nearly jumped at the sound of Noriel's voice. Her former mentor and parental figure rested a hand on her shoulder, her orange gaze intense as she stared at the monitor.

Batel shook her head. "Not yet. But why did you want me to focus on Soho?" Weren't prayers supposed to come to _them_? Then again, she'd only been at this job for two weeks, so what did she know?

"Classified information."

Batel frowned. Since when did they keep secrets from each other? Noriel even knew that she hated _The Sound of Music_. She was always more of a _Cinderella_ kind of angel anyway.

The fire angel smiled kindly and brushed a stray black hair out of Batel's face. "I'll tell everything you later, I promise. But right now, just try to find any odd prayers. And put on your headset. It'll help you more, I think."

The Angel nodded and returned her attention to the screen. There were prayers, but Noriel seemed to be looking for a very _specific_ one. _It would be alot more helpful if I just_ knew _what was going on._ And if there were more Angels on shift besides her.

But she kept watching and listening in silence as voices and notifications poured in.

" _Dear God, please help me with my marriage."_

_"Let me make new friends during the new school year."_

_"Help me convince my parents to let me get a puppy."_

Were humans always so overly reliant on the Almighty? Why couldn't they learn to do things _themselves_? But at least it guaranteed more souls for Heaven.

Seconds ticked by as Batel tapped her desk, waiting for... _something_. "Noriel, just tell me what you need me to find," she said after taking off her headset. When the older angel didn't reply, Batel turned her head to see Noriel pacing around while on her phone.

"I'm still working on it, Raziel."

Raziel? _Oh, so I'm doing_ his _bidding, then._ Which meant she probably wasn't going to get any real answers any time soon. Why couldn't anyone tell her anything?

_I better just focus on my job._

Odd prayers, Noriel said to find. _How_ odd?

_"I know I haven't been the best leader, but I promise to do better from now on when I get back to Heaven."_

Ah. _That_ odd.

"Noriel!" Batel called. "I think I may have found what you're looking for."

* * *

"But _why_ can't we tell them?"

" _Because_ it would cause chaos all throughout Heaven. And we don't want that, do we?"

Batel shook her head. Noriel had just told her what she knew of Michael's situation, but no matter the reasoning, she still thought it would do much more harm than good to keep this a secret from everyone. What if Hell invaded and they wouldn't be able to defend themselves because of it?

Noriel was saying something as they walked through Heaven's halls, but Batel wasn't really paying attention. She was only a little more than century old, but from all her studies on previous events, hardly anything seemed to come out of lying and keeping secrets unless it was spying or, in certain cases, saving the Earth. _Have we learned nothing from the days of Adam?_

Why did the ancient ones have to be so stupid?

"Batel!"

The Angel's thoughts were interrupted when she heard her name be called and saw her partner Adara waving to her.

"Go be with your girlfriend," Noriel said. "I'll see you at choir practice in one hour." The archangel kissed her cheek before walking away from the two young Angels.

As soon as Adara approached her, Batel greeted her with a kiss.

"How are you, my dear?" Adara asked, holding Batel's hand as they walked together.

Batel sighed. "I don't know. Everything today has just gotten me feeling..."

"Perturbed?" Adara offered.

"I guess?" Batel made a mental note to look up the word later. Her girlfriend always did have a big vocabulary, something that probably came with being three centuries older.

Adara smiled. "Well, I don't think there's anything to be upset about. The Archangels are simply getting what's coming to them. And Suria and Chamyel too, I suppose. It's like how the French rose up against King Louis."

Batel quirked an eyebrow. "Didn't his death lead to the Terror?"

"Fine, horrible comparison, but you get my point. Although, I certainly wouldn't mind if Gabriel ever lost that pretty head of his."

"Adara!"

"Jesting! Anyway, Mitzrael and the others weren't too happy with Uriel's and Sandalphon's punishments."

"Which was?"

"Demotion. To _our_ rank, might I add."

Batel laughed. "You don't seem happy about it, either. But be glad they're getting punished at all."

"Hmph." Adara shrugged. "I suppose you're right, love. Still seems a bit too tame, though. If you ask me, I'd given them a much harsher punishment. Something like... answering a thousand prayers a day, or having _them_ be responsible for _our_ dry-cleaning, or—"

"Become human?" The words were out of Batel's lips before she could think it through.

Adara stopped walking. "Well... yes, I suppose that'd be a good one. A little excessive, though, don't you think?"

Batel didn't respond, and she suddenly found the floor to be very interesting.

"Batel?" Adara lifted her partner's chin, a troubled look in her brown eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Doesn't seem like nothing. Do you want me to get a healer?"

Batel shook her head and smiled. "I'm fine, Adara. Truly."

_Hypocrite!_

"Hm." Adara frowned. "If you say so."

The Angels proceeded to walk in awkward silence, Adara gently squeezing Batel's hand on occasion. Batel, in turn, was grateful for the reassurance, but she didn't look at her partner the entire time.

 _I really don't want to lie to her,_ Batel thought, resting her head on Adara's shoulder. _Or the rest of Heaven. But I can't betray Noriel's trust, either._

"Batel?"

"Hm?"

"Did someone become human?"

"Uh..."

"You were acting strange just now when you brought it up," Adara said. "And come to think of it, I don't think any of us have seen Michael or Gabriel since that little demon revealed our commander's secret. Batel, if you know _something_ —"

"I don't!" The denial came out perhaps a bit too quickly, and there was hurt in Adara's eyes. "I don't know anything, Ada. I _swear_ it! It was just a suggestion."

Her partner's brown eyes darkened. "Alright." Adara caressed her cheek and gave her a weak smile. "You _would_ tell me if something was wrong, right?"

Batel nodded forcefully. "Of course."

_Liar!_

Adara didn't seem convinced, but instead of arguing, she said with a sigh, "I just remembered, I have an assignment to get to."

"Adara." Batel hated how desperate her voice sounded.

The older Angel didn't say anything, only kissed her partner's cheek and walked away.

Batel stayed where she was, staring after her. Why did today have to be so complicated?

* * *

 _Please don't be_ The Sound of Music. _Please don't be_ The Sound of Music _._ Batel repeated this over and over again as she made her way to the choir room, hoping if she'd do so, it'd prove to be true. She'd sing anything else from Rogers and Hammerstein, but she'd had enough of singing _Do-Re-Mi_ during warm-ups.

 _Although,_ she thought, _singing in general may help me take my mind off things._

She stopped just outside the doors, but just as she was about to open them, Noriel and a few other angels were coming out. "Am I late?" Batel asked, confused.

Noriel shook her head. "Choir's been canceled for today. Peter's called an emergency meeting."

"Peter?" Batel had never met him, but she knew he had once been a disciple and was now guardian of the Pearly Gates. She did however not know he also had the authority to call any meetings. _It must be really important, then,_ Batel thought as she followed the other singers. And she could already guess what it was about.

* * *

The auditorium was already nearly full by the time Batel and the others arrived. She took a seat near the back beside Noriel, who was deep in conversation with Amaliel.

"Who do they think they are?" she heard the punisher say. Batel noticed they were looking upward, and she followed their gaze to see the three leaders of the principalities sitting together in one of the balconies.

Noriel must've noticed, because she then explained to Batel, "Michael and her siblings usually sit there."

Amaliel huffed. "If you ask me, those principalities are turning out to be no better!"

"Oh, you're just bitter you didn't get to punish Uriel and Sandalphon yourself."

"Well, yes, but that's besides the point."

Batel listened to the conversation in silence and couldn't help but think that Amaliel was overreacting. She'd only spoken to Haniel twice—once after he defended her when she'd nearly been blamed for the many lives that were lost on the _Titanic_ , and another time about a week prior to when the Apocalypse was supposed to happen and she'd asked him what would become of the third sphere when Earth was destroyed. Both times he'd been nice enough.

 _I was so excited when he wanted to make things more fair in Heaven,_ Batel recalled wistfully. But now, his revolution seemed to have come with a heavy price.

"This seat taken?"

Batel turned to see Adara standing in front of the empty seat beside her, and they smiled nervously at each other. The younger Angel shook her head, and Adara sat down. After a moment, the two said in unison, "I'm sorry about earlier!"

They stared at each other for a second and laughed.

Batel kissed her girlfriend's hand. "I'm sorry I upset you."

Adara nodded in appreciation. "And I'm sorry for leaving. I just felt like you didn't trust me."

Batel's brown eyes widened. "Of course I trust you! It's just—"

Noriel's voice interrupted her. "Hush! Peter is about to speak."

Batel nodded apologetically to the archangel, but she couldn't help wondering if she was trying to get her to pay attention or if she was trying to stop her from saying too much.

A short, bearded, man-shaped angel soon appeared on stage, followed by a taller one.

Noriel gasped as a few angels began to murmur amongst themselves.

"What is it?" Batel whispered.

"The tall one. That's the Son!"

Batel gaped. If _He_ was here, then this was _much_ more serious that she'd thought.

Peter handed Him a microphone, and Jesus tapped it a few times before beginning to speak.

"Um, good day, everyone," He said. "It has come to My attention that you have all been a little tense lately, and I wanted to take the time to address any grievances. Now, may anyone be able to tell Me the cause of—"

"Michael," every angel in the room said in unison.

"It's a bit of a long story, Lord," Haniel said. "But essentially, we were all tired of the behavior of the some of the seraphim—Michael, especially—and—"

An older looking angel from the next balcony interrupted. " _You_ were tired of it, you mean!"

"Says the _seraph_!" Haniel retorted. "And even if you were of another rank, you _still_ wouldn't have any room to talk, Metatron!"

Batel was surprised. The principality was arguing with the _Voice of God_ now?

Raguel and Cerviel nodded in agreement, though the youngest of the leaders seemed more apologetic.

"He's getting bolder, I see," Batel heard Noriel whisper to Amaliel.

"I believe the word 'reckless' is more accurate, my dear," the punishment angel replied.

Jesus frowned and levitated up to the balconies. "Peace, both of you. We can settle this without arguing." Looking around, He asked, "Er, Michael? Care to explain yourself?"

But of course, there was no answer. _I thought the Son was supposed to be omniscient_ , Batel thought. Or maybe this was a test.

"Michael?"

"She isn't here, Lord!" Cerviel blurted out.

"She's on an assignment," Raguel quickly added, covering the younger principality's mouth. " _Multiple_ assignments, actually. But she should be back in... oh, four years or so?"

Angels began to speak to each other again, some relieved and others confused. Jesus however was silent. It seemed to go on forever, until He said, "If you're going to lie to Me, Your Honor, at least _try_ be convincing."

Shocked gasps erupted throughout the room. Maybe Amaliel had a point.

"Now, if you could tell me where Michael _really_ is, that would be most helpful. Come to think of it, I don't think I see Raphael, Uriel, Gabriel, and Sandalphon here, either."

Haniel spoke again. "Uriel and Sandalphon are on Earth, Lord."

Jesus nodded. "And the others?"

The principality was silent and he avoided the Son's face.

Jesus sighed heavily and returned to the stage. "Right. Well, I can't help you if none of the Four or Sandalphon are even here. I believe it's important to get to the source of an issue first and work from there. And more importantly," He added, looking hurt, "I usually don't appreciate lying. Remember, a truthful witness saves lives, but a false witness is a traitor."

Batel couldn't help but flinch at this, His words echoing in her head. _Saves lives..._ Like from a potential infernal invasion. "Lord!" The Angel shot up from her seat, and everyone turned their heads to look at her.

"What are you _doing_?" Noriel whispered.

"The right thing."

Jesus smiled kindly as he approached her. "Yes?"

Batel hesitated at first, until taking a deep breath. "The seraph Michael is currently in England and was turned mortal by the demon Nithael."

Some angels gasped again, some even screamed, and Batel swore was able to feel Haniel's burning glare on her. But not once did she take her eyes off the Savior.

Jesus kissed her forehead and whispered, "Thank you, Batel. Your honesty will be much appreciated, I promise you."

"She lies!" Haniel shouted, rising from his seat. "Are we really going to trust the word of a lowly Angel?"

Batel flinched and tried to keep herself from crying. _I thought you were supposed to be giving us a voice._

Noriel and Adara both noticed. "Don't you _dare_ talk about her that way!" they growled in unison. Other Angels came to her defense as well.

Haniel's face fell when he looked at Batel, and he seemed remorseful. "I'm sorry. I only meant—"

"How could you hide this from us!" came Abdiel's voice, his wings appearing before flying up to face the principality. "Do you not realize the danger you've almost put us in?"

"You're only saying that because it was one of your own!" said someone from below.

Some angels agreed, and Amaliel said dryly, "How surprising that you aren't impressed with a demon's handiwork, Abdiel."

Batel didn't hear the response, though she guessed Abdiel wasn't happy. Whereas Milton built up his reputation, people like Klopstock and France ruined it.

The Angel covered her ears to block out the noise and buried her face in her lap so no one would see the tears that were threatening to fall. _What was that you were saying about my honesty, Lord?_ This was too much!

She felt someone pet her hair, and Batel slowly looked up to see Jesus still smiling at her as He miracled her a handkerchief. She quickly thanked Him and dried her eyes.

Unfortunately, the arguing around her had only increased.

"ENOUGH!" Jesus' voice boomed, a bright white light surrounding Him. To the princely leaders, He said, "You three! Come with me! You as well, Metatron. I will need someone to pass on our conversation to My Father. "

For whatever reason, the Metatron seemed hesitant, but nodded and stood to leave the room. Haniel and his co-leaders followed not long after.

"I'll make sure everything is settled here," Peter said after approaching his old friend.

Jesus nodded gratefully and soon left without another word.

But even as the angels turned their heads back to the stage, even as Peter spoke again and tried to give them all words of comfort, the tension in the air still lingered.

And to Batel, it only seemed to be getting stronger.


	11. Chapter 11

They went to a replica of Christ's small Nazarene home and were greeted by Joseph and Mary. The Virgin however avoided looking at Haniel when he entered the building, which he thought wasn't really fair. _I showed her who Gabriel really was._ Why wasn't she more grateful?

"Sit," Jesus said, gesturing to the wide table.

The angels obeyed while He sat at the head and Mary set plates of manna out for them; Cerviel was the only one besides the Son who began to eat it.

"So," He began with a sigh, "who would like to speak first?"

All heads were turned to Haniel.

 _Why me?_ The oldest principality didn't really mind, but he still didn't appreciate being put on the spot like this. "What do you want me to say, Lord?"

"Start at the beginning."

The beginning. Well, that could mean alot of things. The aftermath of First Fall seemed like the most obvious place to start, but Michael seemed to really change for the worst more so after the second one. But neither seemed right to Haniel.

So, he decided to start with Pompeii.

"I don't know about anyone else," Haniel said, "but I started to resent Michael after she'd banished Raphael to Pompeii."

To his annoyance, the Metatron scoffed at this while writing. "It was a _probation_ , Haniel."

"What probation lasts _fifteen centuries_?"

As cruel as it was, sometimes the head principality couldn't help but thank God for letting Joan die when she did. When she returned to Heaven, it actually seemed like Michael had developed some empathy after her last charge died and that things would change for the better when she decided to take a step back from most of her duties. That was before he realized just how long Gabriel had been under her influence.

The Voice of God only stared at Haniel for a moment before returning his eyes to the paper.

"As I was _saying_ ," Haniel continued as he briefly glared at the Metatron, "that made me realize how poorly Michael was treating those even in her own rank. And then years later, she blamed me for Vesuvius' eruption after I failed to stop a demon from activating it."

Even now, the memory still made Haniel wince. The destruction, the panicked humans... And then there was his commander, flying just above him in frustration and threatening to have his wings clipped for a year. He'd been too weak to stand up for himself then, instead deciding to beg her for forgiveness while trembling until sweet Raphael had come to his rescue to vouch for him.

The more Haniel thought back to that moment, the more he hated himself for it. _How_ pathetic _I was back then!_

"Was that when you decided to rebel?" Jesus asked.

Rebel. Such an ugly word. It was used to describe what Lucifer and his followers had done, to describe what the Watchers had done, to describe each and every action against God. This wasn't like that at all!

 _He didn't mean it like that,_ Haniel told himself. "No, or at least not on this scale."

Every time Michael or Gabriel blamed someone for a horrible event, he'd made it his personal duty to defend the innocent whenever he was present, as Raphael had done for him so long ago. He always considered this to be an act of defiance, however small and harmless it was. Not that it ever really prevented the angel from getting punished anyway and had in fact made things worse at times, but it was still worth a try. And said angel being on his side afterwards certainly didn't hurt, either.

Haniel continued. "What finally motivated me to take action was the attempted execution of one of my principalities, Aziraphale."

"The one who helped prevent the Apocalypse?" Jesus didn't seem to be all that upset about it.

Haniel nodded. "The very same." He was grateful the Son didn't call Aziraphale a traitor.

Raguel spoke next. "I believe it was more gradually for me. I never had any personal issues with the seraphim, but I despise their arrogance. When Haniel suggested revolution, I was only too happy to judge them myself."

"And it was during the whole Bathsheba thing for me," Cerviel said, wincing. As his former guardian, they'd taken King David's downfall a bit more personally than most. "Sorry if I'm being dramatic, but I'd rather face a thousand Goliaths than be reprimanded for something out of my control."

Haniel and Raguel both nodded in agreement.

"So," Jesus said, "in retaliation you three thought it was a good idea to—from what I've heard—set up a trial where not only the judge was a principality," He glanced at Raguel, "but the jury was as well until Raphael told you to make it more inclusive?" He said this all so casually, but Haniel knew criticism when he heard it.

 _I have no reason to be ashamed!_ he reminded himself, half hoping the Son heard him. _I simply did what I thought was right._

Raguel and Cerviel however stared at Him for a few seconds, until Cerviel broke the silence by saying, "Well, when you put it like that, it makes us sound like—"

"—hypocritical lesser angels who grew too big for their wings and had no idea what they were doing and _still_ don't, and have only realized the consequences of their actions far too late?"

Everyone glared at the Metatron, but he seemed completely undeterred by the reactions.

"What?" He looked at Jesus. "We were both thinking it."

The Son simply gave an exasperated sigh and returned his attention to the three leaders. "I won't say you don't have a right to be angry. You all most certainly do. But surely you could've thought of another way that didn't require a _demon_ to be here?"

 _Now_ he had a reason to be ashamed. _I should've put my foot down._

"Th-that was more my fault, Lord," Cerviel said, their eyes downward. "I let the details of the trial slip, and Nithael was insistent on coming, or else she might've told Hell what was going on."

"And _I_ allowed it," Raguel, looking equally remorseful. "In hindsight, I should've known better. But Haniel had no idea she would be in attendance until she arrived."

The Metatron scoffed again, but he thankfully didn't actually say anything this time. Instead, as he took note of the judge's words, he simply glared at her and Cerviel with... was that suspicion?

"You think they planned this?" Haniel growled at him, nearly rising from his chair.

The Voice shrugged. "It all just seems a little _too_ coincidental that a demon would _just so happen_ to be here just when you all decide to rebel."

That horrible word again!

"And even if you didn't, I don't see either of you doing much to get Michael back. Or to punish the demon, for that matter."

Raguel began to speak, likely to explain why she'd let Nithael go, but Haniel barely heard her. Who did this angel think he was? _He wasn't even_ at _the trials!_ And having been born human, the Metatron knew nothing of their plight. He was nothing more but a glorified secretary at this point, anyway. Someone like him could never understand.

And neither could Jesus. He'd always been more human than deity, and even after He'd Ascended, he rarely spent any time with the angels except for that bastard Gabriel on occasion.

 _Neither of them have room to talk. If anything,_ they _should be the ones—_

 _Stop that!_ Haniel tried to force himself from shaking. How could he think such things? For all his condescension, God clearly trusted the Metatron enough if She gave him such a high position of power so soon after he became an angel, and Her Son was... well, _Her Son!_ Moreover, He was quite possibly the only reasonable authority figure besides Peter who was actually trying to help.

 _I have to reel it in,_ Haniel realized. Being billions of years old had taught him how easy it was for one to abuse their authority once the previous regime had been overthrown. And besides, it wasn't like he was in charge of Heaven, anyway.

Jesus must've noticed his initial rage, as He looked at him with concern. "What do you all plan to do when the absent seraphim return?"

"I've considered setting up a council made up of at least one angel from every rank," Cerviel said at once, their eyes shining with pride.

Jesus smiled. "I think that's a wonderful idea. But doesn't Heaven already have one?"

"Not really," Haniel replied. "Usually we all just listen to what Michael and Gabriel tell us."

"Until now."

The principality gave a reluctant nod. Were they just going to be berated for the rest of the day? He understood _why_ , but that didn't lessen his annoyance.

"Are you going to punish us?" Cerviel asked softly.

That was a good question. And if so, what sort of punishment would it be? Surely He had the same powers as His Father? _But He wouldn't Fell us, would He?_ Hell didn't need were more members. Or maybe He'd follow Nithael's example and turn them human instead.

But Jesus shook his head. "I believe there's been enough punishments lately, attempted and otherwise. Now is the time for peace, not violence and retribution. I do not wish for our home to be divided again."

The last word nearly made Haniel flinch and he noticed Raguel and Cerviel seemed unsettled as well. Still, they all managed to give sighs of relief while the Metatron muttered something under his breath.

" _However,_ " the Son added sharply, "I still fully expect you three to clean up the mess you've created. Do it however way you wish, just make sure there isn't any more conflict from here on out. Otherwise, there _will_ be consequences to be faced. Am I clear, princes?"

"Yes, Lord!" the principalities all said in unison. "Thank you, Lord!"

With that, Jesus dismissed them.

 _I should probably start with fully apologizing to Batel,_ Haniel thought as he stood.

Stepping out of the house, he saw Mary and Joseph tending to some flowers, both seeming completely unaware to the leaving angels. _Mary would probably appreciate one, too._ But Haniel knew he wouldn't mean it if he did. Besides, what would he even have to apologize for? Exposing Gabriel? _I won't apologize for opening her eyes._

So, he simply pretended to not notice the Holy Parents and followed his siblings out of the spirit realm.

* * *

Raguel and Cerviel were talking quietly to each other as they and Haniel walked through Heaven's halls to return to the auditorium. He was barely paying attention to their conversation, but knew they were discussing the council idea again.

Instead, Haniel was mostly focusing on making a mental list of those he had to make amends with. Batel would be first once they got to the auditorium, of course. And then he'd finally have that conversation with Raphael, something the principality was already dreading because of how awkward he already knew it was going to be.

 _But it'll be worth it,_ the angel reminded himself. _I'll even tell him where Michael is while I'm at it._ And who was Raguel to tell him what to do?

Suria and Chamyel were still imprisoned as far as he knew, and that was probably punishment enough. _I'll have Raguel let them off with a warning at least._ He still wanted the two thrones to be given a harsher sentence for assisting in a kidnapping, but he supposed it was better than nothing.

The rest of the Archangels... _maybe_. Sandalphon and Uriel were much too aggressive for his liking, and he'd much prefer it if Gabriel would get over that superiority complex of his first if they were ever going to reach some sort of middle ground. And hopefully Michael being turned human really would teach her a lesson in compassion before she returned to Heaven.

Once these four had come to their senses, only then could there be true peace between the ranks.

Hopefully.

As the three angels were getting closer the auditorium's doors, they saw Peter rushing out, looking both annoyed and distressed. As soon as he saw the principalities, he frantically asked, "Where's Jesus?"

"In the spirit realm," Cerviel said, concern in their eyes. "Why?"

Peter sighed and glanced at the doors. "There's a bit of trouble in there and I may need His help to stop it. I don't have time to explain, so best see the chaos yourself." The angel of the Pearly Gates left without saying another word.

 _Chaos?_ Haniel frowned, an uneasy feeling now settling deep in the pit of his stomach. He'd sensed tension among the ranks earlier, but surely a little spat couldn't have resulted in so much trouble? "I'm sure it isn't that bad," he said, not sure if he was trying to convince his fellow principalities or himself.

Raguel and Cerviel looked uncertain.

Forcing himself to put his worries aside, Haniel walked towards the doors as he told himself, _It's not that bad. Peter was just overreacting._ But just as his body began to relax, the principality heard muffled, angry-sounding voices from the other side.

Maybe the disciple hadn't overreacted after all.

 _Jesus will be trusting me to take care of this._ And the last thing he wanted was to displease his Lord. Lifting his chin and squaring his shoulders, Haniel took a deep breath and threw the doors open.

And what he saw horrified him.

All around, there were angels from different ranks arguing.

Angels who had drawn their swords and were fighting each other.

Angels who were shooting miracle after miracle at the other until both had tired themselves out.

All Haniel could do was stare, mouth agape.

A strange, horribly familiar feeling overcame him just then, one that he'd hoped to ever experience only once. But history had a strange way of repeating itself, didn't it?

At that moment, he felt Raguel grab his hand, while Cerviel took hold of the other. All three were shaking, but neither one of them spoke.

That was all the confirmation he needed to know that they felt it, too.

For the first time in six thousand years, Heaven was on the brink of another civil war.


	12. Chapter 12

_She was surrounded by a forest of fire, the scent of burnt wood hitting her nostrils and flame tendrils licking at her exposed skin, as though the fire itself was trying to grab her. She winced, but didn't stop to rub the burn marks._ I have to keep going! _she thought, covering her nose and mouth so as to not breath in the smoke._

_But she soon discovered that the further she went, the hotter the temperature only seemed to get. "Help!" she tried to scream, however raspy her voice had become. But no one answered._

I'm going to die here, _she realized._ Why? _But perhaps what frightened her most of all was that she would die here alone. No siblings to comfort her, no Father to save her._

_All she could do was try to not think of the pain as the fire at last began to take her. But as it did, she could've sworn she heard a strange, shrill, horrifyingly familiar laugh somewhere nearby._

* * *

Michael awoke with a start, panting heavily as the dream receded from her mind. _I'm alive,_ she told herself. Disturbed, but alive. That was the most important part. But how embarrassing to know she was scared by a _nightmare_. Strange as well, now that she thought about it. Since when did angels—

Oh.

 _That's right. I'm not an angel anymore._ She wasn't in Heaven, in her office while polishing her weapons for the hundredth time that day. She wasn't in the training area, sparring with the other seraphim and keeping score.

She was on Earth, in a traitor's bookshop, trying to sleep on a sofa.

"Are you alright, Michael?"

Michael tried to keep calm at the sound of Aziraphale's voice. He must've been sitting at his desk for awhile now, reading a book as usual and his only source of light being a table lamp.

 _Do I look alright?_ she wanted to snap as she sat to face him, but that would mean admitting that something was indeed wrong. And she hated the thought of being coddled, especially by _him_. "Fine. Where's Raziel?"

Aziraphale was silent for a moment, the light showing worry on his face. "He went out just a minute ago," he said at last. "I believe he wishes to explore the area for a bit."

"I see." She was grateful her new guardian was already out looking for potential spots for her to preform good deeds, but did he _have_ to leave her alone with this treacherous principality? "Shouldn't you be with Crowley?" she asked.

Aziraphale made a sound that almost sounded like a laugh. "I love Crowley, but I like my privacy as well. Besides, I wish to see you get settled in first, and—"

"Settled in? What, are you afraid I'll destroy your shop or something?" She meant it as a joke, so she was surprised to see him flinch.

"O-or something."

 _What happened here?_ She almost asked, but her curiosity was quickly quenched. "I'll be careful, if that brings you any comfort." It was just a bookshop, for Heaven's sake. What could she possibly do to ruin it?

"Shall I get you anything?" Aziraphale asked awkwardly. "Or perhaps you would like to talk instead?"

Talk. Was he referring to her reason for waking up or his own actions? Probably the latter.

No, _certainly_ the latter.

"I'm not going to apologize, if that's what you're expecting!" she snapped.

"Th-that's not what I—"

" _You_ were the one who betrayed Heaven!" This was _her_ moment. She wasn't going to give him the chance to talk. "If anyone should be punished, it's _you_. How do you think we felt when we found out about your betrayal?"

At this, Aziraphale scoffed. "Don't act like you suddenly care!"

" _Of course_ I care!" Why wouldn't she? He'd been one of the Almighty's most devoted angels, Gabriel's best principality.

 _Well, you_ did _immediately suspect him of treason as soon as you got those photographs._

He'd been getting close to a demon; what else was she supposed to think? And she turned out to be right in the end, anyway.

And _you approved of the plan to have him killed while_ you _went down to Hell like the hypocritical coward you are!_

 _Someone_ needed to make sure the Serpent of Eden got what he deserved! Why shouldn't it have been her?

These voices—her conscience, or whatever it was—were quickly beginning to grow tiresome.

Michael had been so distracted by her thoughts that she didn't even notice Aziraphale had turned on the room's light until it started blinding her. She recoiled and blinked several times until her eyes adjusted to the brightness. "A little warning would've been nice!"

"Oh, dear. So sorry," Aziraphale said, sitting back down. "But if we're to have this conversation, I thought it'd be best for us to be able to see each other first."

"How generous."

If he noticed her sarcasm, he didn't comment on it. Instead, he asked, "What's the first thing you know about me?"

The question made her laugh. "Well, that's an easy one. You're fond of Earth, though perhaps a little _too_ much."

"Yes, but _specifically_." He sounded impatient. "My favorite food or book. Or even my proudest moment."

"Well, how am I supposed to know?" Michael asked as she folded her arms. "You and I have never been that close, Aziraphale."

He nodded. "Which is precisely my point. How can you say you care if don't really know anything about me? And what of the other angels?"

Michael sighed. How could someone be so unreasonable? But, as much as she hated to admit it, he had a point—she was distant towards most of the Heavenly Host. Perhaps if she'd been closer to the lower ranks, they wouldn't have resented her as much. "So you didn't have anyone who understood you. Is that why you turned away from Her?"

Aziraphale's eyes widened in surprise. "Turned away from... Of course not! I still love God very much."

"Well, you have a very odd way of showing it."

He sighed. "I can feel loyalty to Her while still disapproving of your ways. And did the Almighty not say we were to love the humans?"

"Love them, yes. _Not_ go against the ineffable plan!"

"Well, actually—"

"Or Great Plan! Whatever your want to call it!" Gabriel had told her about his time at the airbase, and she _still_ didn't think there was much of a difference. Sighing heavily, she asked, "Why couldn't you have just stayed in line? I would've spared Crowley if you'd just asked."

Aziraphale didn't seem convinced, and neither was she. _Would_ she have spared any remaining demons after defeating Satan? _Would I have spared Ligur?_ Before, she probably would've been certain of it, but now she couldn't even imagine a scenario in which that would've been possible.

The principality sighed. "I'm not angry, just so you know. And I'm absolutely appalled what Haniel and the others did to you. But I _am_ disappointed."

_I don't need your approval._

"I'm sure even _you_ can't deny that your little confrontation was taking things too far."

Now he was just being unfair! "As I recall, Uriel and Sandalphon were the ones who attacked. And even then, they weren't being that harsh." It wasn't her fault if he was too soft.

"Michael, Sandalphon punched me and Uriel pushed while _you_ stood by." Aziraphale's voice was shaking by now. "You call _that_ not being harsh?"

He was overreacting. That wasn't what happened at all, surely not! _I would've stopped them if I thought they were being too rough._

But she _hadn't_ thought that.

_I remember now._

She'd gathered the two Archangels together to confront him, to scare him into submission and warn him of the consequences.

Or at least, that was how _she_ had seen it.

Aziraphale's face from that day briefly flashed in her mind, how terrified he'd been.

She'd called him a Fallen angel and told him he had to choose sides.

Sandalphon had punched him in the stomach.

And Uriel had grabbed him by his suit afterwards. _"You really think Upstairs will take your call?"_ she had asked. _"You're ridiculous."_

Then they left as soon as the trumpets rang.

 _No wonder he thinks I don't care._ But the worst part was that he hadn't been wrong, either.

Haniel was right. What was wrong with her rank? What was wrong with _her_?

"I'm sorry," Michael said, wishing to rid herself of her guilt. "I— _we_ should have taken a different approach. I hope you weren't hurt too badly."

Aziraphale nodded. "I appreciate the apology, and I thank you for your concern."

She waited for him to say that he forgave her, but the words never came. _Fine, then!_ Why should she try to seek forgiveness from him anyway, a lowly principality? How foolish she was to feel sorry for him!

Michael was relieved when she heard the door open. _I never thought I'd be so happy to see Raziel._

When the archangel entered the room, he was surprised to see Michael awake. "I thought she was asleep," Raziel said to Aziraphale.

 _I'm right here!_ "I was," she said, clenching her hands as she got his attention.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

Michael was hesitant. How much should she reveal to the angel of mysteries? Especially with Aziraphale here?

As though sensing her discomfort, Aziraphale stood again, book in hand. "Why don't I leave you both be? But I'll be just nearby if you need me."

Michael and Raziel nodded, and the archangel sat beside her as soon as Aziraphale left.

"Doin' okay there, Chief?" Raziel asked softly, cupping a hand into his.

Michael immediately snatched her hand away; she didn't need him to probe into her mind, even accidentally. "I'm fine. Just... sad memories."

"Do you wanna talk 'bout it?"

She quickly shook her head. "I'd rather just go back to sleep."

Raziel frowned and just sat there looking at her, as though he were trying to guess what was wrong, but his face soon relaxed before saying, "Okay. Just don't be afraid to confide in me, alright?"

Michael simply smiled and nodded. It felt like she was lying. But he was her guardian now, why _shouldn't_ she confide in him? _He's also a horrible gossip,_ she reminded herself. _He already knows far too much about me, I'm not going to tell him about my dreams, too._ She still wasn't entirely sure if he'd told Raguel her secrets, and she was too scared to find out.

Michael expected him to leave, but he just sat there with a troubled look on his face. "Is everything alright?"

Raziel looked at her again and blinked several times, as though he were remembering where he was. "Yeah, just peachy," he said, scratching his neck. "Noriel called earlier and said there was some tension back home."

Michael's eyes widened. " _How_ much tension?"

"Nothin' you need to worry 'bout. Just a few angels arguin'."

She raised an eyebrow, noticing Raziel tapping his foot. _Huh!_ For an angel of secrets, he sure was a horrible liar. Under any other circumstances, Michael might've found it funny. "If you're certain..."

"I am! Jesus and the disciples are takin' care of it."

Michael immediately stood. "What!?" How bad of an argument did there need to be for the Son and His friends to get involved?

Raziel placed his hands on her shoulders, prompting her to sit back down. "It's _fine_ , Mike. Now, you get some sleep." With a smile, he added, "You have a big day tomorrow."

Michael was still skeptical, but nodded and smiled back. She clearly wasn't going to get any answers tonight. So she fluffed her pillow and laid back down. "Good night, Raziel."

"G'night, Michael."

After he turned off the light, he surprised her when he kissed her cheek, and she suddenly felt calmer. Happier, even.

It didn't take long for sleep to come.


	13. Chapter 13

Gabriel looked through the map while Raphael ate his boureka.

"I don't understand how you can eat that," the younger Archangel said, not looking at his brother. "Or anything, for that matter." It wasn't that he was against food, he just found the entire concept of eating to be completely unnecessary.

"Oh, don't act like you're so above it all!" Raphael said. "Don't you still eat manna?"

"That's different and you know it!" Manna was more of a treat, something Gabriel only ate on special occasions. And more importantly, it didn't come from humans. "And anyway, this isn't the time to be enjoying ourselves."

It'd been three days since Michael disappeared, and they were still no closer to finding her. Why wasn't Raphael taking this more seriously? Gabriel may have suggested the country, but looking for their sister was _his_ idea!

Raphael sighed. "You're only saying that because you're upset the world didn't get destroyed."

Gabriel nearly crumpled the map. Did he _have_ to rub it in? _I'm beginning to remember why Michael is my favorite._ Why ask him to come along if all he was going to do was treat him like some little kid?

"Are you sure you don't want some, dear?"

"YES, I'M SURE!" Gabriel hadn't meant to raise his voice, and only realized he'd done so when passerbys had stopped to stare at him, some casting judgmental glares. _Well, that's just great._ He quickly said an apology in Hebrew and buried his face in the map while walking through Tel Aviv's streets as fast as he could.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Raphael still walking beside him. "No need to yell," he said, disappointed. "And chin up! You're going to get yourself hurt and miss out on the world's beauty."

 _Okay, that's it!_ Gabriel folded the map and faced his brother. "Are you gonna be doing this for our whole trip?"

"Doing what?" The Archangel genuinely seemed confused, but Gabriel wasn't fooled.

"You know _very well_ what I mean!"

"Can't I look out for you?"

"There's looking out for me, and then there's _this_!" Gabriel sighed. "I know you care for me, but can you do that _without_ acting like an overbearing parent?" He'd been like this before his probation too, and it'd been just as annoying.

"Hmph!" Raphael took another bite out of the boureka before saying, "If that's what you want. Now, where are we off to next?"

Gabriel was grateful they were getting back on track. Reopening the map, he said, "Let's see... I think we've searched all over Israel, so maybe we can look for her in France next?" Reminding her of Joan seemed demonic enough.

"Actually..." Raphael began, "if I may make a suggestion?"

Gabriel smiled, happy to see him contributing. "Sure, go ahead." Perhaps Palestine could be their next destination, or maybe even China. Just so long as it wasn't...

"England."

The map nearly slipped out of Gabriel's hands, and it took him a few seconds to fully process what Raphael had just said after he stopped walking. "I was afraid you were gonna say that." Rubbing his temple with one hand, he asked, "Why in Heaven and Hell would you want to go _there_?"

"It just makes the most sense to me," Raphael said. "And besides, don't you wish to make amends?"

"Amends? Aziraphale is a _traitor_ , Raphael." Gabriel could barely believe what he was hearing. Was _this_ why he'd been brought along?

As though sensing his disappointment, Raphael said, "I know he hurt you, but I think you need the closure, if only for your own sake."

 _Closure? Ha! Still, I guess I can't be too surprised he's downplaying things._ But there Raphael went again, always thinking he knew what was best for everyone. Somehow, this was much more irritating than him sympathizing with the principality who got them into this mess in the first place.

Raphael smiled warmly and reached out a hand towards his brother's shoulder, until Gabriel slapped it away.

 _Did I just do that?_ he thought, horrified as Raphael stared at him in shock. "I-I'm sorry! It's just... you were being fussy again, and—" _Wait._ Why should he apologize? His brother could be so overbearing at times, it only seemed fair for him to learn the hard way. And wasn't therapy partially about letting one's feelings out?

Taking a deep breath, Gabriel started again. "I'm sorry, Raphael, but you've gotta admit that what you're doing is too much."

"That's not—"

"It _is_ true." Then a single thought crossed his mind, one that would surely hurt Raphael. But maybe it would get the point across. _He'll forgive me later anyway, he always does._ "After all, wasn't it your overprotection that got you banished in the first place?"

Raphael tensed up, and when he didn't say anything for the first few seconds, Gabriel wondered if he'd gone too far.

 _Maybe I_ should've _apologized._ "Look, I only meant—"

Raphael snatched the map away before he could finish his sentence, looking more furious than Gabriel had ever seen him. "Do whatever you want, Gabriel! I'll look for Michael myself!" He then walked away while muttering under his breath.

Gabriel stayed where he was, briefly wondering if he should go after him. They'd only wasted more time by arguing, and division never did anyone any good.

But before he could go after the other Archangel and possibly apologize and then go to their next destination together, there was a voice just behind him—one that sounded deep and friendly and, more importantly, all too familiar.

"In trouble again, Gabriel?"

Gabriel never took his eyes off Raphael's direction. "What do you want, Satan?"

He tried not to flinch when the Devil placed a hand over his shoulder. "Come now, brother. 'Lucifer' is fine. Or 'Venus'. Or even 'Halel' if you still wish to be formal."

"What. Do you. Want?"

"What, can't a demon king spend some time on Earth without being suspected of doing something evil?"

The angel stayed silent.

"No, you're right, I didn't believe that one, either."

Gabriel groaned and finally looked at him. He'd been through this song and dance before, so he knew Satan wasn't going to leave just because an angel wanted him to. "May I help you?"

Satan ignored the question and asked one of his own. "Why are you looking for Michael?"

 _Crap!_ Gabriel hadn't realized the enemy might've listened to the entire conversation. "What's it to you?"

"Final battle, fate of the universe, etcetera, etcetera... Is this ringing any bells yet?" He laughed. "But then, it's not like that matters anymore. Why, if it weren't for your angel—"

" _My_ angel?" Was Satan really going to blame Heaven for this? "Now hold on just a minute! _Your demon_ was the one who tempted Aziraphale away!"

He shrugged. "Hm. And yet you tried to have one of your own killed, anyway. Isn't your kind supposed to be all about love and justice? And at least my side _pretended_ to have a trial."

 _Oh, no. Not this again!_ He'd already heard a similar thing from Nithael, he didn't need to hear it again from the Devil himself, too. "Goodbye, Satan!" Gabriel said, beginning to walk away from him.

Unfortunately, the Fallen angel wouldn't leave him alone. "I'm not disappointed, by the way," he said, walking beside Gabriel. "In fact, I'm rather impressed."

This caused Gabriel to stop. Impressed? _But then that would make me no better than..._ The angel shook his head. _He's toying with you._ "You're just saying that."

Satan's eyes glinted, a smile beginning to form. "Oh, don't be so modest! You're every bit as vain and cruel as I am. Why, I couldn't be prouder, little one!"

Gabriel felt like screaming when the Fallen angel hugged him. _God, if you're still listening, please help!_ He knew prayer was futile, but he had to at least try.

Noticing his panic, the Devil's smile grew wider, but his voice now held a hint of menace. "Now, let's try this again, shall we? _Why_ are you looking for Michael?"

For the first time, Gabriel noticed suspicion in his eyes. Did Nithael tell him something? _Raguel said she made sure that demon wouldn't tell anyone, so that theory's out unless she lied._ "Just trying to deliver some paperwork," he said, finally pushing him away.

"And Raphael?"

"Sightseeing. You know how much he loves food and culture."

"And you can't call her phone because...?"

 _It was confiscated._ "She left it in her office." Gabriel forced out a laugh. "I guess her age is finally beginning to show, eh?"

From the bored look on his face, Satan clearly wasn't believing any of this.

Gabriel awkwardly cleared his throat. "Right, well, it was good to see you again!"

He feigned disappointment. "Oh, leaving already?"

The angel began to walk away again. "Yeah, sorry. But maybe we can talk again some other time!" Or never. Preferably never. He was almost beginning to miss Raphael's coddling.

"Gabriel!"

 _Oh, thank God!_ Gabriel had never felt more relieved to hear Raphael's voice. But when he caught sight of him, he was surprised to see the healer looking so distressed, running as fast as he could with worried eyes.

"Raphael?" Gabriel placed a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

The Archangel took a deep breath, and it'd only taken him a few seconds to finally notice Satan's presence. "Wh-what is he doing here?" Raphael stammered, which led Gabriel to be even more confused. Since when was he afraid of the Devil? Or any demon, for that matter?

Satan didn't seem to notice the strange behavior. "I'm only here to do some light tempting, brother. It gets so awfully _boring_ Downstairs, surely you understand? Anyway, Gabriel and I were just talking about Michael, and—"

"Michael?"

 _Oh, no._ "Raphael, before you say anything—"

But Gabriel's attempt at a warning fell on deaf ears. Glaring at the younger Archangel, Raphael said, "You idiot! How could you tell him she's been turned human?"

Gabriel facepalmed as Satan echoed enthusiastically, "Human?"

 _He_ was the idiot?

Raphael immediately realized his mistake, glancing between the two beings before his eyes finally landed on the Fallen angel. "Y-you didn't know?"

Satan grinned, eyes shining. "Nithael's experiment worked, then! Oh, how wonderful!"

"You _knew_ about this?" Gabriel asked. He wasn't surprised, but it was one thing to be suspicious of his involvement and an entirely different matter to have those same suspicions confirmed.

He scoffed. "My dear, I _approved_ of it! You didn't think one of my demons would just hurt our darling elder sister without my permission, did you?"

"B-but _why_?"

Satan shrugged. "Honestly? The thought of it seemed amusing. Of course, this means Nithael either lied or one of you or your so-called benevolent angels did something to her to stop her from talking. Personally, I'm more inclined to believe the latter."

There was a long pause.

"Oh, but don't worry," their Fallen brother continued. "I'll be far too busy to go after her, and having her be human is a much more entertaining torture method, anyway. And just between the three of us, I don't particularly trust my demons to find her and kill her, either. Your secret is safe with me."

Raphael glared at him. "You expect us to believe that?"

"No, but you'll simply have to. Now, I really must be going." Satan moved to hug the angels, but Gabriel and Raphael immediately took two steps back and he pretended to look hurt. "Oh, very well! I never took you two for the affectionate types, anyway."

For a moment, Raphael seemed uncomfortable by his words.

"Well, so long, you two. It _truly_ was a pleasure, and I _do_ so hope we get to talk again soon." With that, God's former favorite finally walked away from them.

The angels both gave relieved sighs afterwards as soon as he was out of sight.

"Thank God he's gone," Gabriel muttered. "As for you," he added, glaring at Raphael, " _who's_ the idiot again?"

Raphael buried his face in his hand. "You don't need to rub it in," he said.

Gabriel almost laughed. "What, no apology?" This _was_ his fault, after all.

The older Archangel finally looked at him, guilt written all over his face. "You're right, I'm sorry for today. But we can't focus on that now."

He felt slightly hurt, but knew Raphael was right. Finding Michael needed to be their main priority, especially now. _We can work through our personal issues later, I guess._

"We need to go to England next."

 _This_ again? So much for finding their sister. "Raphael, I already told you—"

The healer shook his head. He grinned, but there was a nervous look in his eyes. "It's not that! I _know_ she's definitely in England."

Well, now he just sounded desperate. "Okay, and you know this _how_?"

"Haniel told me."

Gabriel's eyes widened. "You _called_ him? After I forbade it?" None of the principalities could be trusted, least of all the leaders. Didn't Raphael understand that?

"Actually, _he_ came to _me_ , and—" The Archangel shook his head. "Th-the details aren't important right now. What matters is that we now know where she is."

England. Land of pompousness, imperial rule, and a constant reminder of Gabriel's and Michael's failures. Great. _I guess Nithael's more evil than I thought._ "Okay, let's say she _is_ there," he said. "I still refuse to see Aziraphale again if you're still expecting that."

"Not everything is about _you_ , Gabriel!" Raphael snapped. "We're going to England whether you like it or not, and I've no time for your stubbornness. Unless you'd rather go back Upstairs on your own."

Gabriel was surprised by Raphael's outburst. What was going on with his brother today? He'd gotten angry before, but he wasn't usually _this_ unpleasant. _Did he and Haniel break-up?_ The thought delighted him, but did his brother really need to take his frustration out on him if that was the case?

And yet, suddenly the possibility of encountering either Aziraphale or Crowley again didn't seem so bad by comparison. Heaven just wasn't what it used to be and he _really_ didn't want to be locked up again.

 _I lose either way,_ he realized with dread. "Fine," he said, giving a defeated sigh. "Let's go to England."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not entirely sure if there's going to be another chapter for this week (again, writing as I go here), but I do plan for there to be another prequel one-shot this Saturday. In the meantime, I hope you all enjoy.

Satan refused to let something as trivial as a delayed Apocalypse ruin his plans. Yes, his Serpent betrayed him and somehow survived his execution and yes, his own son had proven to be a disappointment, but these things weren't anything that couldn't easily be dealt with.

His reputation however was another thing entirely.

It'd been more than a week since the Apocalypse had been postponed, and still the whispers lingered.

 _"He's too weak,"_ a few would say.

_"We should've never followed him."_

_"Beelzebub would make a_ much _better leader."_

They were all too cowardly to say such things to his face, of course. Or clever. Or both. But he was used to it, this not-so-secret disrespect; they all hated him since the Fall, and the feeling was mutual. Everyone feared him more than anything, which was just fine with him.

Everyone, that is, except Beelzebub.

"Here'zzz the renewed ceasefire contract you asked for," they said once entering his office, holding the only thing that kept angels and demons from attacking each other on sight. There was no bowing, no formal address... They didn't even bother to at least pretend at assuming a submissive stance.

Maybe making them his second-in-command was a mistake.

"Thank you, Beelzebub," he said, returning his eyes to his copy of _Paradise Lost_. "Although, you really should try this thing called knocking. I could've been busy with someone for all you knew."

They snorted. "Oh, good one, lord."

He growled. The lack of having someone to rule beside him had been a source of mockery ever since Lilith and her children all fled Hell and were never seen again after the Great Flood. Adam's first wife hadn't officially been his partner and had even refused to be with another after Samael's death, but everyone still assumed she would've at least given birth to the Antichrist when the time came, even if she hadn't met any of the requirements.

Clearly that had not come to pass, and finding a suitable virgin who would willingly sleep with the literal Devil had been harder than it'd initially seemed.

Satan nearly singed his desk again the more his second-in-command kept on talking. He didn't have to deal with such insubordination back in Heaven, so why now?

"...and then of course there izzz the Council meeting for today."

 _Council meeting_? This got his attention. "Didn't we have one recently?" It'd been just after the failed Apocalypse too, though the 'discussion' had mostly just been the other members berating him for being defeated by an eleven year old child.

It was then Satan had realized he would never be able to live that day down. He needed to do something to remind everyone who he was, and quickly before another rebellion occurred. _The sooner Nithael gets that new spell of hers done, the better._ Beelzebub would make the perfect test subject.

The lord of the flies nodded. "Yes, but this izzz more of an emergency meeting. Asmodeus suggested it. She apparently wants to discuss her pick for a new representative for Wrath."

Satan nearly groaned. He longed to officially get rid of the position like he'd done with Despair, but doing so would likely just make the rest of Hell even more suspicious of him than they already were.

But the world didn't end and the war never came, which meant he had no choice but to go through with this. "Very well. Tell the others to meet me here in one hour." And whoever Asmodeus picked had better be worth it.

* * *

"I nominate Duke Hastur!"

"State your reasoning." Beelzebub already had a pen and paper in hand, preparing to write all of this down.

The demon of Lust nodded and began what would likely be a very long and passionate speech that would somehow be sprinkled with much innuendo, but try as he might, Satan couldn't really be bothered with paying attention.

His mind was elsewhere, to before the meeting was set to begin while on a quick stroll throughout Israel. Part of him had hoped to encounter Michael to discuss the new ceasefire terms while relentlessly teasing her over her own hypocrisy, but then he'd found Gabriel and Raphael arguing and now he couldn't stop thinking about what that stupid healer had so stupidly revealed.

 _They didn't even_ try _denying it._ That was probably the most disappointing part about all this. How such fools proved to be such a threat, he would never know. And whatever had been bothering Raphael... Well, it wouldn't take long for him to find out. He _always_ found out.

He was however delighted to know that Nithael had done her duty well and had immediately undone the silencing miracle upon returning to Hell, much to her relief.

 _"Does this mean I don't have to create that new spell?"_ she had asked, almost looking hopeful.

Satan had then laughed in her face and pretended she was joking before not-so-subtly threatening her to complete her latest project. She wasn't going to get out of this so easily.

 _I suppose I_ should _give her some type of reward, though._ Perhaps he'd make _her_ the next demon of Wrath instead of Hastur.

"...and furthermore—"

"Th-thank you, Asmodeus!"

By the time Satan remembered the meeting, he noticed most of the members blushing save for Belphegor, who was gazing at Asmodeus like she was a powerful soldier who'd just inspired a war room with a heartfelt speech.

Beelzebub coughed. "Now, then. All those in favor of allowing Duke Hastur to be our next Wrath?"

"Aye!" the voices rang out, though it seemed to be less out of agreement and more out of a desperation to get away from the lustful demon as quickly as possible.

" _I_ think this is a waste of time," Satan said, causing everyone to groan. "Asmodeus, we've already lost two demons in such a short amount of time and Hastur is still grieving, which could cause him to become unfocused. Do you truly wish to bring our numbers down even more?"

Asmodeus shook her head, still determined. "My dear lord, that is _exactly_ why I've nominated him. Ligur's death is unfortunate for all of us, but for Hastur most of all." Turning to Leviathan, she asked, "Levi, what would you do if someone murdered Behemoth?"

The sea demon had a frightened look flashing in her eyes for just a moment. "I would try to avenge him," she said.

"And you, Beelzebub? With Dagon?"

"I would do the same, I suppozzze." Their tone was indifferent, but everyone knew better.

Asmodeus' face softened when she looked at Belphegor. "As would I _por mi cielo_."

"Your point?" Mammon growled. He seemed to be getting sick of all this love talk as much as Satan himself was.

Asmodeus glared at him and turned to her boss, bowing her head. "My point, _señor_ , is that grief can easily turn to rage. I wouldn't expect you to understand, but..."

It was wise of her to trail off—any more, and Satan thought he'd harm her then and there. _But she has a point._ If there was any demon who knew the heart, it was Asmodeus.

"You present a good case," Satan said, folding his hands while leaning forward. "Still, what makes you so sure he won't get himself killed like all the others?"

"I don't." But then her eyes shined, and that only meant one thing. " _But_ why don't we make things more... interesting?"

Mammon grinned and brought out a large pouch, setting it on the table. "One million dollars says he fails!"

"I have two million euros I can spare," Belphegor said, putting down his own currency.

Leviathan soon joined in.

"This is why I don't like meetings," Satan whispered to Beelzebub, who nodded in agreement. _Every time_ , _someone_ —usually Asmodeus or Mammon—somehow managed to turn the discussion into some sort of competition. If they wanted to gamble, they could all just go to Las Vegas in their free time.

"I refuse to take part in this," he said, "but I suppose I can give Hastur a chance."

Asmodeus nodded gratefully. " _Gracias_ , my lord. Where shall I send him?"

He almost said England, as it was the most obvious choice. But no. He wanted to have his fun for as long as he could first. "Why don't we start small? Send him to Oceania for a month as a test run and have him work his way up if he does well enough. Then once we all think he's ready, we'll send him to England to assassinate the Serpent and that angel of his."

There were growls among the Council, and Beelzebub seemed especially tense at the mention of their former supervisee. In this, they were united, at least. Promise or not, this simply couldn't be allowed to happen again.

"I shall tell him at once!" Asmodeus said.

Satan nodded. "Of course. But first, does anyone else wish to say anything?"

The others shook their heads.

"In that case, meeting adjourned." He hit his gavel, and his demons all stood to leave his office.

 _Okay, so maybe I'm cheating_ just _a bit,_ he thought once he was alone. But then again, all he told Raphael was that _he_ wouldn't go after Michael, nor did he actually tell anyone anything about his sister. But if a grief-stricken Hastur just so happened to find her all on his own, blamed her for indirectly causing his partner's death, and then attacked her for it... Well, that wouldn't _really_ be his fault, would it?

There was only one thing demons loved more than creating chaos, and that was loopholes.


	15. Chapter 15

"You did _what_?"

"Sold a copy of—"

"Yes, yes, I heard you, but _why_?"

Michael couldn't understand it. After memorizing the shelves for three days, she'd finally been given the opportunity to handle a customer, and _this_ was the thanks she received? And why was Aziraphale so angry? She knew he was protective of his books, but to _never_ be willing to make a sale seemed ridiculous.

"Aziraphale," she began slowly, "if you don't want to sell any books, why didn't you just turn your store into a library?"

If angels could suffer from natural ailments, Aziraphale looked like he was about to have a heart attack with the way he was clutching his chest. "Do you not realize how horrible that idea is? Yes, I'm sure it sounds lovely in theory, but people can be so forgetful and careless at times, and—"

"Yes, yes, I get it!"

Behind them, Crowley and Raziel were both laughing.

"It's not funny!" Aziraphale and Michael said in unison.

"It sort of is," Crowley responded between laughs.

"I'm honestly beginnin' to wonder if all principalities have a thing for drama," Raziel said. "Are you _sure_ you don't know Haniel, Aziraphale?"

Aziraphale frowned. "Yes, I'm _quite_ sure!" Going over to sit beside Crowley, he said, "Oh, I think I may need a drink."

"Probably three," Crowley told him, pouring his angel a glass of wine.

Michael found herself agreeing with Raziel. Rather than rebelling, perhaps Haniel and his followers should've just gone into theatre to let out their frustrations instead. _No_ _use_ _in getting worked up over it now, I suppose,_ she thought. The damage was done.

To her relief, Raziel pulled her aside while Crowley was trying to cheer Aziraphale up. "Why don't we go outside today?" he asked.

Michael nodded. "If I spend another minute here—"

" _Kindness_ , Michael." Raziel gave her a warning look as he opened the door for her. "You don't want to be trapped in here the entire time, do you?"

The former Archangel scoffed as she stepped out of the bookshop. "What, so I can't be honest now? Do you know he won't even take responsibility for his actions?" Aziraphale was _just_ like the Watchers—aware of the rule-breaking, yet refusing to admit to any wrongdoing.

Raziel walked beside her and rolled his eyes. "There's honesty, and then there's just bein' disrespectful. You're a _guest_!"

"And _they're_ traitors!" She knew she was just being stubborn, but surely being nice to Aziraphale and Crowley wasn't neccessary? As far as she was concerned, they no longer mattered.

Raziel apparently decided to ignore her, choosing instead to take in the scenery. The streets were busy and the air was slightly chilly, indicating the coming of autumn. Somehow, the archangel seemed pleased. "I really don't see how you can hate any of this."

Yet another Earth lover. Wonderful. "I don't _hate_ Earth," Michael insisted. "I'm simply not fond of it like you and the rest of the third sphere apparently are." Why grow attached to a place that was destined to be destroyed? "And I'd hoped you'd all grown out of this silly fascination of yours by the time the Apocalypse came."

"Silly fa—" Raziel stopped walking to stare at her, and Michael was surprised to see how hurt he was.

"Oh, I didn't mean anything by it, Raziel!" But she couldn't really fault him, either. Raziel was one of the earliest guardians, _of course_ he'd be upset. "But nothing lasts forever."

"And yet Earth is still here." His eyes were narrowed and his voice had become ice as he raised his chin to meet her eyes.

 _Is he challenging me?_ Michael almost wished she had her sword with her right now. The former Archangel forced herself to give him a tight smile while making a fist. "For now, dear," she replied at last in her sweetest tone. If the lesser angels thought they'd won, then they were even more delusional than Michael had believed.

She proceeded to walk in front of him, and he in turn quickened his pace to walk beside her. "I just don't see why you won't give this place a chance!"

 _I don't see why_ you _would._ The planet itself was pretty, she had to admit. It was the inhabitants she had a problem with. Looking at him, she said sternly, "May we continue this conversation later, perhaps? Right now, I need to _focus_."

Raziel shrugged. "Fine. I'll follow your lead, Chief."

 _As you always should!_ Michael was tempted to say as much, but she held her tongue. She had to be mindful of her pride. "Thank you," she said instead. "Now be on the lookout for anyone who may need help with something."

 _Anything_ would do, really. She couldn't afford to be picky.

Raziel knitted his eyebrows together. "You sure we'll find something this time? Seems like Adam did a pretty good job at this whole world peace thing."

Adam? _He's referring to the Antichrist by_ name _?_ But then again, the child was no longer that, was he? "Aziraphale mentioned something about the boy warping reality, but surely the peace can't last, so long as evil still exists?" She'd give it another week at most.

Raziel shook his head. "Never said this was gonna be a permanent thing. But instead of lookin' for trouble, maybe we should wait for trouble to come to _us_?"

"And _why_ would I do _that_?" Didn't he realize that only wasted more time?

"Because it's all part of _your_ No Interference policy." The coldness in this voice returned, but that didn't stop him from smirking afterwards. "Just trying to be a good little angel here, Chief."

"Oh, shut up!"

She'd almost forgotten all about that. The No Interference policy was something she'd come up with after the Second Fall, and included things such as angels being forbidden from copulating with mortals and discouraging the performance of frivolous miracles. But most importantly, it forbade angels from intervening in mortal affairs unless they were assigned to that specific human or approached by one, be it directly or through prayer.

In theory, it was all meant to teach angels the meaning of responsibility while distancing themselves from humans as much as possible. But if Aziraphale was any indication, it had been an absolute failure in practice. _Heaven help us all if he's known someone._

"Look, all I'm sayin' is that maybe we shouldn't be drawin' too much attention to ourselves," Raziel said.

That was rich coming from him. "And here I thought you weren't one for the rules, Raziel." Once, she may have considered him to be the closest thing Heaven had to a disobedient angel after the Falls, thanks to the lengths he would occasionally go to either help humanity or the _Observer_.

"And _you_ suddenly aren't?" he retorted, smiling. "Ya know, maybe we should've gotten you out of your comfort zone much sooner."

She laughed. "Yes, well, even _I_ believe that some rules are meant to be broken. You still don't know _everything_ about me, Raziel."

His smile widened. "Well, I'd like to."

"You're joking." Could he be any more invasive?

"Is my suggestion that weird?" he asked, seeming genuinely confused. "We're gonna be spending alot of time together, so maybe we should get to know each other more. And I promise, this'll just be between us."

Much as Michael didn't like to admit it, his words made sense. And besides, she needed to close the distance between her and the other angels anyway. _Maybe this'll be a good way to start._ "Okay," she said. "Ask me anything."

* * *

They ended up turning the inquiries into a game of sorts by the time they got to the park, taking turns asking each other different things about their lives. And even now, Michael was still able to take Raziel by surprise.

" _You_ met Henry VIII?" he asked, briefly choking on his apple as Michael ate hers. "You're kidding!"

Michael sighed. "I really wish I was. And I'm almost certain I would've become his wife had I stayed any longer." The thought still made her shudder, knowing what she knew now. "It was during the Reformation and I wanted to see some things for myself. Then I somehow caught the king's eye and fled as soon as I was able to."

"Seems like you _really_ dodged a bullet there," he said. "Still, can't say I blame the old bastard. You're smart and pretty and..." Raziel stopped himself from saying any more as he began to blush, as though he hadn't meant to say such things aloud.

Michael laughed. "You flatter me, Raziel. But I don't think I'm looking for anyone right now." So much had happened in so little time and it was simply too soon after Ligur.

His eyes widened and he looked like he wanted someone to smite him. "Oh, I wasn't trying to—"

"Don't worry, Raziel," Michael said reassuringly. "I know what you meant. Besides, even if you were to try and court me, you wouldn't succeed. You're simply not my type."

_And Azazel somehow was?_

"W-well, that's great to hear!" He laughed nervously and then gave an awkward cough. After a moment, his face became somber before he asked, "Although, while we're on the subject... how are you holdin' up?"

Michael hummed, glancing downwards. "It gets easier each day, I suppose. I think the interrogation helped, so I must thank you for that." Never in her life did she think she'd say those words before today, but it was the least she could do after gaining his support.

Sympathy flashed in Raziel's eyes. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry he hurt you."

"Thank you," she said. "But don't feel sad for me. If I was able to come to terms with Lucifer's betrayal, then I'll get over this." Eventually.

"Enough to forgive Crowley?"

"Don't push it!" She tried to be stern, but broke into laughter instead and Raziel soon joined her.

This was nice, being able to talk and laugh without having to be on guard all the time. No responsibilities or burdens or rebellious siblings to worry about. It was just her and Raziel on this nice afternoon, enjoying each other's company.

What was it she was supposed to be doing again?

Michael soon realized it was her turn to ask him something, but Raziel's head shot up in alarm before she could even speak. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Demons," Raziel said, lowering his voice. "I can sense 'em nearby."

"How many?" If Hell's representatives were on Earth, were they after Aziraphale and Crowley? Unlike angels, demons weren't known to keep their promises.

"Two, I think." Raziel frowned. "You need to go back to the bookshop. _Now_."

"What, and leave you to face them alone?" Was he crazy? Besides, they were out in the open, and surely they wouldn't bring attention to themselves in public if a fight did indeed occur?

Then again, the ceasefire was only meant to last until the intended day of the Apocalypse. And since it'd never come to pass... _Another thing to blame Aziraphale for, I suppose._

" _I'll_ be fine," Raziel insisted. "But you? If Hell finds out you're human, we're _done_ for! Now go and don't look back. I won't be long, I promise."

Michael considered his words. On one hand, she would normally be able to handle her own just fine. On the other, he was right. Hell couldn't know _anything_ about this. Moreover, she'd have no protection if things took a turn for the worst and there was no telling just how powerful these demons would be.

Giving a defeated sigh and standing from the bench, she realized she had no choice but to leave him on his own. "I'll give you twenty minutes."


	16. Chapter 16

If there was one thing Raziel hated more than anything in all of Creation, it was lying. In his mind, it was what led to the Rebellion and every other horrible thing in history. But more than that, it went against his own morals as a reporter and interrogator. And shouldn't the news be all about the truth?

Sometimes it was necessary, of course, but he didn't think lying about a pair of demons being nearby was one of these instances.

But if Raguel and Cerviel wanted him to keep Michael away from her seraphim siblings for as long as possible, then he had no other choice but to listen. And Cerviel may have been a good friend and fellow reporter, but they still outranked him.

 _She'll forgive me if she finds out about this, right?_ he thought as he paced in front of the bench. Of course she would! Michael was a reasonable being... sometimes. _She'll understand._

"Raziel?"

The archangel glanced up, and a strange feeling settled in the pit of his stomach when he saw Raphael and Gabriel approach him. Forcing a smile, he said, "Afternoon, fellas. What brings you to England?"

"We could ask you the same thing," Gabriel said, crossing his arms as he narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

 _Does he know?_ Raziel did his best not to panic as he held his hands behind his back. "Just enjoying the day!"

"In _England_? Of all places?"

Raphael placed a hand on Gabriel's shoulder. "Now, now, Gabriel. We shouldn't judge those who wish to visit this place."

"And if he's in league with the traitors?"

"Gabriel!"

Not for the first time in his life, Raziel felt grateful towards his supervisor. Reassuringly, he said, "I actually just got here, so I haven't run into either of 'em at all so far." He hoped that sounded convincing. "But you still didn't answer my question."

Raphael spoke before Gabriel could. "If you must know, we're looking for Michael. Haniel told me she'd be here."

"He did?" Much to Raziel's chagrin, his voice had gotten higher and his eyes wider. Didn't the principality care about the revolution anymore? _Oh, who am I kidding?_ the archangel thought bitterly. What _revolution?_ What started out as a dream for the lower spheres to gain a voice had turned into nothing more but a complete mess almost as soon as it'd started.

 _We could've gone on strike, but nooooo!_ He'd meant it when he called the principalities dramatic. Maybe he _should_ go against his orders. Haniel had gone against his, after all, if what Raguel suggested counted as such. It was only fair.

"Oh, not you too!"

"Huh?" Raziel noticed Gabriel was looking past him, his face scrunched up. Following his gaze, he realized that the messenger was referring to the two apples on the bench. _Oh, crap._

"I didn't know you ate, Raziel," Raphael said.

"Just for today," Raziel quickly explained as he disposed of the fruit with a snap of his fingers. "Stress eating, y'know?" Why was he still lying?

"Oh, you poor thing!"

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Your strange... habits aside, Raziel, have you seen Michael or not?"

The archangel chuckled. "If I had, dontcha think I woulda told ya by now?" _Idiot! That was your chance!_ It was too late to turn back now.

"Well—"

" _Thank you_ , Raziel," Raphael said, smiling while elbowing his brother. "But you'll tell us if you see her, right?"

"'Course." He grinned as he said this, wishing for nothing more than for the seraphim to leave. "You two will be the first to know!"

"Excellent!" Turning back to his fellow seraph, he said, "Come, Gabriel. We'll look for her in France next."

Gabriel only looked angrier as Raphael began to walk away. "You mean to tell me we came all this way for _nothing_? And what about Haniel, huh? Aren't you going to talk to him about misleading us?"

"Not now, Gabriel." Raphael's voice was dismissive as he had his back turned on the other two angels.

Gabriel however didn't follow his brother, instead forming a fist in one hand and grabbing hold of Raphael's arm with the other. "I've had just about enough of this!" he growled. "For someone who wanted to go find Michael, you sure don't seem to be taking this search very seriously."

Raphael glared at him and wretched away. "I _assure_ you, I am! It's not my fault you've become so bitter."

"Bitter!?"

Raziel stifled a laugh. Under normal circumstances, this would've made for excellent material. _Thank you, sibling tension._ Now was his chance! _Okay, so all I to do is tiptoe my way out of here and then I'm home free!_ Sounded easy enough.

But he'd only just barely left his side by the bench when he heard Gabriel say, "And just _where_ do you think you're going?"

Raziel froze, eyes wide. _He's onto me!_

"Back to Heaven."

Oh. He was speaking to Raphael. _Well, that's a relief._

"You know you're not really helping your case here, right?" he heard Gabriel say as he began to sneak past him.

"Well, since you think I'm not contributing, I thought I'd do us both a favor."

"By _abandoning_ me?"

"If you wish to call it that."

 _God, I wish I had time to record all of this!_ Readership would no doubt increase and it was always fun to take a jab at Gabriel every now and then. _Haniel would probably have my wings if I slandered his boyfriend, though._ Besides, Raphael was one of the nicest angel in Heaven; he didn't deserve to be gossiped about.

"By the way, Raziel is getting away."

Then again, maybe he did.

Before he could even make a run for it, Gabriel sped in front of him, startling the archangel. "Ah! Uh... I-I was just—"

"Sit down."

"Okay." Why did he think he could get away? Especially from Gabriel of all angels, one of the fastest beings in Heaven?

After reluctantly obeying the seraph, Gabriel turned his attention back to Raphael. "Anyway, as I was saying—"

"You're not going to change my mind," Raphael said, this time in a kinder voice. "And besides, someone needs to make sure everything is fine back home."

 _Oh, he knows,_ Raziel thought. He would've been surprised if Haniel hadn't already told his partner Michael's location. _Guess there's nothin' stopping me from telling her the truth, then._

Nothing except the thought of worrying her.

To his surprise, Gabriel flinched. "And why can't that someone be _me_?" he asked demandingly. "Y'know, the _manager_!"

As always, Raphael had an answer for everything. "Because I wasn't the one who tried to kill my best principality."

 _Ouch!_ If Gabriel wasn't so... well, Gabriel, Raziel thought he'd almost feel sorry for him.

Raphael turned to Raziel and smiled, as though he hadn't been arguing with his brother just now. "It was lovely seeing you again, Raziel."

 _Yeah, I'm sure it was._ "Same to you," he said, forcing the words out.

"Oh, and do give Aziraphale and Crowley my regards."

"Will do."

Wait.

_Damn it!_

Gabriel's violet gaze burned into his brown ones. "You just said you haven't seen them!"

"And we can assume he lied about Michael as well," Raphael added.

Raziel shrunk in his seat. "W-well, I—" He stopped himself when he noticed Raphael smirking. _Why, that little..._ It was all too easy to forget Heaven's best healer was fully capable of being just as spiteful and manipulative as the rest of his rank.

And that was exactly why he was possibly the most dangerous. _Why did Haniel want him to take over?_ At least with Michael and Gabriel, they all knew what they were capable of.

Raphael approached them, clearly satisfied with himself. "You were saying?" he said to Gabriel.

"Yeah, yeah, thanks." The younger seraph seemed to be struggling not to smile. "Now, let's start questioning him! I think you should go first, and then—"

Raphael shook his head and laughed. "Oh, I was serious about going back to Heaven! You'll stay here, of course." To Raziel, he added before Gabriel could protest, "And Raziel. Seeing as how I'm still your supervisor, I hereby order you to keep an eye on the little one."

_Little one?_

"Little one!?" It was almost comforting to know that Gabriel wasn't happy about this, either. "Raphael, come on! This is going too far!"

Raphael shrugged. "On the contrary, I think I'm being quite fair here."

He glanced up, but Gabriel put a hand on his shoulder before he could take off. "I-is this about earlier? Because I said I was sorry!"

 _What happened earlier?_ Wheels were already beginning to turn. _Hm. Maybe I can use this to my advantage..._ He wasn't the archangel of mysteries for nothing, after all.

"This has nothing to do with that!" Raphael said, perhaps a bit too defensively. "This is about _you_ needing to take responsibility for your actions. And besides," he added with a sigh and a hint of sadness in his eyes, "you've always been much closer to Michael than I ever have. I'm sure she'd love to see you more."

Gabriel glanced down for a brief moment. "Fine," he told his brother at last. "You win."

Raphael smiled. "Hm. That's better. Now, I'll see you soon, dear. And listen to Raziel!"

 _Like_ that's _gonna happen!_

From the displeased look on his face, Raziel knew Gabriel was thinking the same thing. But neither of them argued with the older seraph, instead choosing to watch him take his leave back to Heaven until he was no longer visible.

There was an awkward silence then, which was soon interrupted by Gabriel's groaning as he sat beside Raziel. "He thinks he knows everything!" He seemed to be talking mostly to himself.

Raziel attempted his most comforting smile. "Does Raph do this often?"

"What?"

"Treat you like a fledgling." It was common knowledge Raphael was protective of all the angels in Heaven, but his behavior towards Gabriel just seemed almost patronizing. _Then there was that day in the courtroom,_ Raziel reminded himself. He hadn't thought much of it at the time, but now... And of course the entire reason for his distant relationship with Michael was because he thought he knew what was best for her.

So maybe 'nice' wasn't the most accurate way to describe the usually calm angel, at least not when it came towards his relationship with the other seraphim.

Gabriel scoffed, but didn't move away. "Like I'm gonna tell _you_ anything!"

Stubborn. But not for long. The proud ones were always the easiest. "Don't you trust me?" he asked, pretending to sound hurt. "Talking will probably make you feel better, I think."

"What, so you're a healer now?" He glared at the archangel. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing, Raziel! And anyway, it's _your_ fault Michael's in this mess in the first place! Why would I trust you?"

Raziel forced himself to keep calm. He could handle the accusations for now. "You're right," he said. "You probably shouldn't. And you have every right to be mad at me, but I'm also the only one willing to listen to you, aren't I?"

After a moment, Gabriel slowly nodded, his shoulders beginning to relax.

Raziel frowned as he gently squeezed Gabriel's hand. "You've been so _tense_ lately, I'm sure," he said. "What with the betrayals and arrogant brothers... Don't you just wanna let it all out?"

Gabriel hesitated. His mind was still trying to fight. "I..."

The archangel smiled again. "I won't tell anyone if that's what you're worried about. It'll be our little secret."

According to Michael, angels didn't have free will. So technically, he wasn't doing anything wrong. _I'm startin' to sound like a demon,_ he thought. He'd be horrified with himself if he wasn't trying to concentrate.

But his own morals could be put aside for a day. Getting Gabriel to leave was more important. And besides, this was usually part of his job anyway.

 _Michael always sent me to get answers._ Usually from potentially wayward angels and the occasional demon, though the reasons were almost always rather petty in hindsight. Maybe it was time these seraphim were taught a lesson, starting with the most arrogant angel Raziel had ever had the displeasure of knowing.

But either he hadn't been focusing hard enough or Gabriel had a stronger will than he gave him credit for. Because before he knew it, the seraph had jumped away from him and was grimacing in disgust.

Raziel was used to this sort of reaction. _It's not my fault God gave me this power!_

"What is _wrong_ with you!" Gabriel hissed after shuddering.

"Just doin' my job," he replied unenthusiasticly. "Now, are you gonna leave, or...?" This was usually the part when angels wanted to get away from him as quickly as possible.

Gabriel didn't seem to hear him or probably just didn't care. "What were you even hoping to accomplish?"

Raziel shrugged. "Gettin' you to leave? Maybe even get something to blackmail you with while I was at it?"

"You're the worst, you know that?"

"You're not the first being to tell me so."

"And I'm not leaving, either!"

Raziel frowned. "Didn't Raphael say you had to listen to me?" he said mockingly. "Besides, I thought you wanted nothin' to do with Aziraphale anymore."

"Oh, shut up!" Gabriel shook his head. "Look, just... just take me to Michael so that we can get out of each other's hair!"

Raziel hesitated. He couldn't afford to anger the principalities, not when things were already so tense back Upstairs.

Or maybe he should for that very reason. _Where else is he gonna go, anyway? Heaven? He'll be torn to shreds if he goes back!_ Not that he cared, of course. But the thought of his home reducing its numbers when they were technically already down by two didn't make him any happier, either.

And maybe this experience would help Gabriel as well. He loved Earth once, maybe he could again.

"Okay," Raziel said at last as he stood. He smiled, a genuine one this time. "Oh, and I'm really, _really_ sorry about just now." What had he been thinking, attempting to use mind control? _If Michael ain't gonna read those philosophy books, then I guess I will._

Gabriel kept his distance, and Raziel wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. "Just take me to my sister and we'll call it even."


	17. Chapter 17

"Holy water?"

"Check."

"Symbols?"

"Check."

"Books?"

"I'm still very much against using them as weapons, but yes, check."

"Excellent!" Michael beamed. After weeks of disobedience, she was _finally_ back in her element. If there was one thing she had to be grateful towards demons for, it was this.

"Don't we already _have_ a plan in case Heaven or Hell ever came after us?" she heard Crowley whisper, though she didn't think he was even trying to be quiet.

"Just let her have this one, Crowley."

Michael frowned, making sure to hide her face in her list. _Why would we even bother with these two again?_ she thought. Hell, she understood. But Heaven? Unless Aziraphale was somehow willing to reveal how he survived Hellfire, he was practically useless to them.

 _Maybe I_ shouldn't _have told them._ What was the use of a warning if they didn't even seem to be taking her seriously? And no one would miss them, surely, if they were to somehow disappear? No one on Earth, at least. And from what she knew of Haniel's so-called revolution, Aziraphale was seen as more of a symbol to them than an angel.

Which was precisely what made him so dangerous. Why had someone not made sure the cameras at the time of the attempted execution were off? _It certainly would've made controlling the narrative alot easier._

And Crowley... He seemed to be cared for even _less_. _It wouldn't be that hard to get rid of him,_ Michael thought, glancing up to see the demon carefully setting a bucket of holy water near the door. _Just one little push is all it would take._ She could even play it off as an accident.

Or at least that's how it _would_ be, if only he weren't immune to it. Besides, murder wouldn't be very _good_ of her, would it? Even if her victim _was_ the Serpent of Eden.

 _But what does it even matter if I play Nithael's games or not?_ Humans were fragile, yes, but she was no fool. She knew how to not get herself killed and was perfectly aware of what would be morally acceptable, so her having been assigned a guardian— _unofficially_ , no less—seemed completely unnecessary.

One bad deed wouldn't ruin anything, so long as she outweighed it with good ones.

And surely being trapped in a bookshop for a few years wouldn't be _so_ bad? It'd certainly lessen her chances of encountering any dangers, at least. _If only I was able to quietly rid myself of its owner._

"Michael?"

The former Archangel snapped her head up at the sound of Aziraphale's voice, and it was only then she realized she'd crumpled her list. "Yes?" she asked, as though she hadn't just been imagining his demise.

Aziraphale briefly and uncomfortably glanced at the list before asking, "Is there anything else you'd like us to do?"

Michael quickly shook her head. "This is fine for now, I think." She hoped he didn't suspect anything. _I was there when the Commandments were first carved, for God's sake!_ she thought. She—Her eldest—should know better.

Three days as a human, and she was already beginning to forget her morals.

 _Aziraphale and Crowley no_ _longer_ _matter,_ she reminded herself. _They're completely useless now, and I should be grateful I'm being given this opportunity at all._ Part of her hoped a demon really would walk through those doors so this wouldn't seem like a complete waste of time.

But that wouldn't be fair to Raziel. _I hope he's okay,_ Michael thought. She still felt guilty for leaving him.

Aziraphale noticed. "I'm sure Raziel is fine," he said gently. "And with any luck, this will all be unnecessary." He seemed to be speaking to himself as much as to her.

 _Is he more concerned for his bookshop or Crowley?_ she wondered. "I'm not worried. Although, I must say, I'm a bit offended you would think Heaven would come after you both."

The principality's eyes widened, and even Crowley stopped to presumably stare at her before rubbing his temple.

"For Someone's sake," said the demon, "please say you're joking. Surely even _you_ can't be this oblivious?"

"Okay, fine, _again_." Demons and their rudeness. "The fact of the matter is, unless you tell me how you survived your executions, you two are completely useless."

Aziraphale didn't seem to know whether to be relieved or offended. "O-oh," he said. "Well, that's... uh..."

"Slightly comforting?" Crowley offered, putting an arm around him. "Or maybe not at all. How do we know you aren't lying? Or won't change your mind later?"

Michael rolled her eyes. _But I suppose I can't blame him for being suspicious._ "I have far too much honor than to go back on my word!"

They both looked at each other, clearly not believing her.

She sighed. "What can I possibly do to get information out of you? Torture? Or do you both think so lowly of the Archangels?"

Their silence did the answering for them.

"Oh, for God's sake!" She had a no torturing policy implemented since the days of Moses! Surely Aziraphale knew this? _And I would never go against my own—_

Wait, no. That wasn't accurate at all. She _had_ gone against her own rules already, hadn't she? With Jehanne, and later Ligur. But she would never go as far as to _torture_ someone! It was an ineffective method, anyway.

"Why else would Raziel be here, then?" Crowley asked, pulling Aziraphale closer to him.

Michael blinked, confused. "He's here as my _guardian_." _Oh, no wonder they don't trust me!_ "If I really wanted to get him to interrogate you two, I would've done so by now."

"Oh, well that's all _very_ comforting."

"Well, what do you want me to _say_ , demon?" Michael growled. "And in case you've forgotten, Raziel no longer takes orders from me anyway!" She glared at Aziraphale. "All because _your_ stupid rank got the brilliant idea of rebelling!"

Michael half expected for the angel to shrink back and let Crowley defend him, so she was surprised when he returned her glare and stepped in between her and his partner. Under any other circumstances, she might've been proud.

"I never asked to be seen as some sort of hero!" he snapped. "All Crowley and I have ever wanted was to live peacefully on Earth. Do not blame us for what Haniel and Nithael have done."

Michael growled. "I'll blame you as much as I like! You two aren't as innocent as you like to believe, and it's time you took responsibility for your actions."

Crowley scoffed. "You mean like _you_ have?"

Michael took a step forward. "And what's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Aziraphale placed his hands on each of Crowley and Michael's shoulders. "I really don't think now is the time for an argument." Glancing at his former superior, he added, "But Crowley has a point."

 _Well, of course_ you _would side with him!_

"How can you ever learn to grow if you don't at least admit to your own wrongdoings?" he asked.

"Oh, and _you're_ one to talk, I suppose?" She crossed her arms. "Why don't we talk about how you've wasted your powers on frivolous miracles? And by the way, what _did_ ever happen to that flaming sword of yours?"

Any confidence Aziraphale had previously had vanished when he took a step back. He never gave her an answer.

"Yes, that's what I thought." She wondered if Aziraphale would still get as much praise as he did if the others knew what an irresponsible hypocrite he really was. _But he's right,_ she thought. _We can talk about this later._

Sighing, she said, "Just go on and keep a lookout, both of you. And if it's Raziel, then make sure to—"

"Ah!" A scream and clang interrupted her, and they all turned their heads to the doorway to see a drenched Raziel scowling at them, the bucket near his feet. "Do I... uh... do I even wanna know?"

Aziraphale rushed towards him and immediately took his jacket. "Oh, dear! So sorry about that, Raziel. Michael said there were demons nearby, so—"

"So you didn't trust me to take care of it?" The archangel glared at her as he snapped his fingers to change into more casual attire while the rest of his wet clothes were in Aziraphale's arms. "That was a new suit, by the way."

 _One that you can't dry on your own?_ Michael thought. "Forgive me for being cautious. Now, did those demons say what they wanted?" _Best get to the point._

To her surprise, Raziel looked confused for a moment. "Oh, right! Uh, see... about that..." Glancing at Aziraphale and Crowley, he asked, "Could you two leave us alone for a minute?"

The principality nodded and smiled. "Yes, of course! Come, Crowley. You can help me put these clothes out to dry."

The demon sighed as he followed his partner to the backroom. "Becoming a dryer. Just what I always wanted to do when we went into retirement."

"What is this all about, Raziel?" Michael asked.

Though Aziraphale and Crowley were out of sight, Raziel still lowered his voice. "'kay, so for starters, I may have... lied."

_"What?"_

She hadn't realized she was being loud until he shushed her. "Keep your voice down! And I know, I know! 'Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor', but in my defense, I was just following orders!"

Michael's hands had become fists when he said this. That argument only excused so much. " _Whose_ orders?" she demanded. "And that doesn't explain why you lied."

"R-Raguel's. And I had to because she thought you'd get distracted."

Distracted? "By what?"

Raziel sighed, and seconds passed without him saying anything.

"Raziel?" She smiled gently and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's alright. Whatever it is, you can tell me. And I promise to not get angry."

This seem to put him at ease. "Promise?"

Michael nodded, hoping this would hold true. She felt like she was only just beginning to gain his trust.

"Okay, then." Glancing at the door, he said, "Though, I think it's better if you see for yourself." Smiling, he added, "It's a surprise I think you'll like."

She raised an eyebrow, now skeptical. It was rare for her to like surprises, but she also felt the need to get it over with. _Whatever it is can't be any worse that what I'm going through now,_ she thought as she followed him outside. And if it angered the rebels, then maybe it really wouldn't be so bad, after all.

They crossed the street and walked in silence for a few minutes, and Michael soon found herself getting agitated. "Raziel, where exactly are we—"

"Michael!"

And then, after turning a corner, she saw him. There, in his crisp lilac suit and bright violet eyes stood an all-too-familiar angel. _I haven't even thought of him and the others since I came here,_ she realized. But now wasn't the time to feel guilty.

She was just relieved to see him still safe and sound.

"Gabriel!" She wrung her arms around his neck as soon as he approached her and he returned the gesture, tears stinging her eyes as they threatened to fall. "It's so good to see you again!" She silently thanked God for allowing this to happen. _I have so many questions!_ "What are you doing here? How are things in Heaven? Who's—"

She only just barely heard her brother when he said, "Michael, you're squeezing too hard!"

It took her a moment to realize what he'd just said, and she quickly muttered an apology as she loosened her grip. _I suppose I don't know my own strength._ Turning her attention back to Raziel as Gabriel caught his breath, she smiled at him and said, "Thank you. I greatly appreciate you doing this for me."

A blush crept up on Raziel's face for the second time as he laughed nervously. "D-don't mention it."

"I'm pretty sure he means it literally," Gabriel said, glaring at the archangel while fixing his tie, but his face softened when he looked at Michael. "And it's good to see you again, too, sis. Finding you had been Raphael's idea, but he had to go back to Heaven for... some reason."

"Oh, is this about the tension back home?" How sweet of Raphael for thinking of her, but she understood. If only Raziel would give her more details.

Gabriel cocked his head. "Wait, what tension?"

"Never mind that now!" Raziel said before Michael could speak, putting an arm around Gabriel. "What exactly do you plan on doin' now? It's not like you have an antidote with you, do you?"

"Well, uh... no," he admitted, glancing at Michael sympathetically. "Though I can only hope Raphael went back Upstairs to find one. Anyway, how are the traitors treating you? Raziel already told me of your... predicament."

"Rather well, surprisingly," she said. "They still refuse to admit to their mistakes and neither of them have even hinted at how they survived—"

Raziel nudged her.

"— _but_ other than that, I have a roof over my head, books to read, and food to eat. Company aside, I can't really complain."

Gabriel seemed disgusted at the thought of her consuming human food. "I... guess that's fine. And now that I know for a fact where you are, I can stop by anytime until you become an angel again." Frowning, he added, "Just make sure to let me know when Aziraphale and Crowley aren't around."

"You're not gonna stay?" Raziel asked. For whatever reason, he seemed anxious.

Gabriel looked amused. "Why would I? I mean, yeah, Heaven's a complete mess right now, but I'd rather deal with all of that than be around the turncoats who live here."

"But Raphael—"

"Never specified how long I had to stay!"

What did Raphael have to do with this? _Oh, for God's sake, don't tell me he's being bossy again!_ She'd hoped his controlling behavior had vanished by the time his probation was over.

"And anyway," Gabriel added, "he's not in charge. _I_ am! So if anyone should be Up there, it's clearly _me_!"

Michael and Raziel shared uncomfortable glances. Surely the lower spheres wouldn't let him regain his position so easily? But before either of them could reply, there was a cooing sound, and all glanced up to see a pretty white dove flying just above Gabriel's head.

"Are doves even native to this part of England?" she asked.

Raziel shrugged.

If they weren't, that usually only meant one thing: this was a dove straight from Heaven.

The bird soon landed on Gabriel's shoulder, and upon further inspection, Michael saw there was a strip of paper rolled up and tied to its leg. "Let me help you with that, little friend," she said gently to the bird, untying the message while Gabriel miracled some birdseed as payment.

The Archangel unrolled the message and read silently as the bird fed, and only after a few seconds did he crumple it up and throw on the ground, frightening the dove. "Who does that damn healer think he is?" he growled, nearly raising his voice.

"What did Raphael do now?" Michael asked, crossing her arms as Raziel picked up the message.

Gabriel rubbed his temple. "Apparently he wants me to stay here and make peace with the traitors! Ha! Can you believe him?"

"Can't be that bad," Raziel said, reading through the message himself. "I'm seein' nothin' here that says you have to _forgive_ 'em. I'm pretty sure just talkin' to 'em should be enough."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Except I don't _want_ to talk to them! It's too soon, if you ask me. Now, if you'll excuse me, and I'm going back to Heaven and—"

Another dove landed before he could take off. This time, Gabriel read the message aloud. " _'You're not allowed to go back to Heaven until you at least talk to them, otherwise, the guards have orders to kick you out as soon as they see you.'_ Oh, he's gotta be kidding!"

Another dove. " _'P.S, I'm not kidding. Don't test me.'_ Okay," Gabriel said as he glanced at Michael, "are we sure Raph isn't a demon in disguise or something?"

"He _is_ going a bit too far, I suppose," Michael said, and even Raziel nodded in agreement. They'd only just recently begun to repair their relationship, and now the healer was willing to throw that all away?

Gabriel tried to shoo the doves away. "How is he even gonna know if I've talked to them or not?"

"Er, maybe _that's_ how?"

The siblings noticed Raziel looking upward, and they both followed his gaze. And the sight made Michael take a step back, and she had to blink a few times to make sure she was seeing things correctly.

All around them, there were several doves perched on each of the nearby buildings, eyeing them with what appeared to be distrust. Well. _Now_ Raphael was taking things too far. _When did he even find the time to train all these birds?_

"I'm going to kill him," Michael heard Gabriel mutter under his breath. Louder—and this was likely for the birds—he said, "Fine! I'll go _talk_ to them! Happy?"

Almost in response, the birds cooed and took flight, except for the three messengers, who were all still feeding and would probably be the actual ones to report back to their owner.

"Let's just get this over with, so my suit doesn't get ruined," Gabriel said as he headed in the direction of the bookshop. "But I'm not gonna like it!"

"Neither will Aziraphale," Raziel whispered.

 _I'd be rather upset, too,_ Michael thought as she followed them. What was Raphael thinking? Forgiveness was in an angel's nature, but it didn't seem right at all to try and force it.

 _The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, and Raphael has no right to do this!_ He was beginning to act just like... like... Michael shook her head. No, it wasn't that bad... yet. She'd be sure to have a word with him the next time she saw him. _Maybe I'll even pray to him tonight, or have Gabriel take a message for me after he's done._

And at least her brother's task were much simpler compared to her own: talk to Aziraphale and go back home. No forgiveness needed. _Hopefully they can do that without trying to kill each other first._


	18. Chapter 18

As Gabriel expected, the door was shut in his face as soon as Aziraphale and Crowley saw him. "Well, I tried," he said, shrugging and began to walk away from the shop.

Michael grabbed hold of his sleeve before he could go very far. "I don't like this as much as you do," she began sympathetically, "but look at it this way: the sooner you talk to them, the sooner you'll get to deal with Raphael."

Gabriel couldn't help bristling at the mention of his brother. At this rate, the only angels he'd be able to trust were his sisters and Sandalphon. "Even if I wanted to speak to them, _they_ clearly want nothing to do with _me_!" How had Raphael not taken this into consideration? _Or maybe he just doesn't care._ Lately, that seemed to be more and more likely.

"Well, then what if we do to them what Raphael has done to you?"

"Use threats?"

"Precisely!" Michael turned to Raziel, who seemed like he really didn't want to be near either of them right now. "Raziel, do you think maybe you could... convince Aziraphale to let Gabriel inside?"

The archangel of mysteries frowned and glanced at Gabriel, as though waiting for his approval.

Gabriel immediately shook his head. After what happened earlier, he was determined to make sure no one went through that disturbing experience ever again, including his enemies. "I'm trying to _not_ be like Raphael here, Michael." The more he thought about it, the more he wondered if maybe his sister really did have the right idea when she sent the healer away. "And before you say it, I'm not gonna use teleportation, either."

Michael seemed almost disappointed. "Well, what do you suggest, then? Unless you _want_ your suit to get ruined?"

"Of course not!"

Raziel stepped in between them. "Here's a better idea! Why not just tell 'em the truth?"

Gabriel scoffed. "What, and have them think less of me?" Not that he cared, of course, but he still wanted to salvage whatever bit of his reputation he still had left.

"You mean they don't already?" Raziel asked smugly. "Look, what else do you really have left to lose at this point?"

"Way to rub salt to the wound." But much as he hated to admit it, Raziel was right. _And I just need to talk to them, right?_ That didn't seem too hard, once he got their attention, that is. "But... fine. Whatever helps me get out of here sooner."

Michael nodded reluctantly and knocked on the door. "Aziraphale? Crowley? Please open up."

"We're closed!" two voices rang out in unison.

The former angel frowned. "Are you sure you two don't want to do this my way?" she then asked her brother and guardian.

"We're sure," Gabriel said as Raziel nodded. Had Michael always been this willing to use aggressive tactics? _Then again, she_ did _cause the Falls, so I don't know why I'm surprised._ "Look, sunshine, why don't you let _me_ handle this?"

Michael hesitated, but soon stepped aside. "Go ahead."

Gabriel nodded appreciatively and took a deep breath before facing the door and knocking.

"We said we're closed, you wanker!"

 _That must be Crowley,_ he guessed. He couldn't remember ever meeting the Serpent, but he sounded just as crass as he imagined he'd be. _Aziraphale is attracted to_ him _?_ "Believe me, I would want _nothing more_ , but the Archangel Raphael has forbidden me from entering Heaven unless I speak with you."

There was a pause then, and Gabriel was beginning to wonder if this really would be a waste of his time, until the door was ajar and Aziraphale's head popped out. His eyes were wide with distress.

"Y-you've been turned human as well?" he asked, looking him up and down.

"Do I _seem_ human?" He knew Aziraphale had been on Earth for a long time, but surely he still had the ability to differentiate between the natural and the supernatural? "Look, just let me come inside so we can have a quick talk and we'll never have to see each other again."

Crowley appeared next and laughed. "What do you take us for? Idiots?"

_Well, yes, but I can't exactly say that aloud, can I?_

"And even if that _were_ true," Aziraphale added, "can't you use your speed to bypass security? Or teleportation?"

"Or maybe you can use your living mind control device here," Crowley said, nodding to Raziel. "Point is, you really expect us to believe that you—the Archangel _fucking_ Gabriel—can't get into Heaven because your brother won't let you? You have any idea how bloody pathetic that sounds if it's true?"

Gabriel growled. What did Aziraphale see in this demon? _And how does he even know—never mind. Not important right now._ "Look, you two," he said, "I don't like this, either. But if you don't hear me out, I'm gonna be going to war with birds!"

"Overdramatic, much?" he heard Raziel mutter.

Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other, amused.

"W-would you care to elaborate?" Aziraphale asked, struggling not to laugh.

 _Oh, sure. Laugh it up!_ "Like I said, Raphael won't let me Upstairs until we talk. And if you don't, Heaven's doves will potentially attack me." He shuddered. "Do have any idea how annoying it is to get bird excrement out of wool?"

"Oh, you _poor_ thing." Was that _sarcasm_ in Aziraphale's voice just now?

"Why should we even care?" Crowley asked. "S'not like this'll have any affect on us, right?"

Gabriel shook his head. "Not that I know of, but—"

"Then this conversation is over."

"Goodbye, Gabriel." There was little to no remorse on Aziraphale's face as he began to close the door again, but Michael stopped it just in time.

"Here's an idea," she said, glaring at the pair. "Why don't we take this opportunity to finish our conversation from earlier, hm?"

"Oh, you mean the one where you blamed all your troubles on us? Great idea!" Somehow, Crowley's sarcasm only seemed to annoy Gabriel more.

"It _does_ seem rather counterproductive," Aziraphale said. "And no offense meant to you, Gabriel, but you don't exactly strike me as the type of angel who'd be willing to listen to others."

Gabriel heard Raziel stifling a laugh just behind him, but decided to ignore him "What are you going off about?" he asked. "Of course I listen." What kind of manager would he be if he didn't?

This time, Raziel didn't try to stop himself from laughing as Aziraphale stared at Gabriel in disbelief. "You want me to go up to Heaven to get your file?" asked the archangel of mysteries between laughs. "Or maybe we should just go over your portion of the trial instead."

Gabriel glared at him, hoping he'd stay silent. _I'd almost forgotten all about that._ Or more like he'd been trying to. What was it with the lower spheres wanting to ruin his life? _Wait a minute..._ Aziraphale was the face of the revolution, right? What if he could use this to his advantage? _And with Raziel here... well, the media's a pretty powerful thing, isn't thing?_

He'd be able to get Raphael off his back _and_ regain his position! _I'll be killing two birds with one stone here._ It was _perfect_.

"Okay," he said, turning back to Aziraphale and Crowley. "I completely understand you two not wanting me here and I don't blame you. But please, just a few minutes of your time is all I ask and then I _promise_ to leave."

There was hesitance in Aziraphale's eyes, but Gabriel was relieved when the angel began to relax.

Crowley, still tense, noticed. "No!" he said.

"But—"

"Absolutely not, angel! We're just _barely_ tolerating these two here," he growled while gesturing towards Michael and Raziel, with the oldest seeming offended. "And now you want to—"

"I don't _want_ to, Crowley!" Aziraphale argued. "But I also don't think we'll ever know peace if we don't do this."

"My brothers _do_ tend to be rather... persistent," Michael said, briefly glancing at Gabriel.

 _Is she comparing me to Lucifer and Raphael?_ he wondered. He thought back to what the Fallen angel had said, about how he was just like him. _She didn't mean anything by it, just stating a fact._

"And if nothing else, don't you think it's best to just get it over with?"

Crowley looked between Gabriel and Aziraphale and, after a moment, soon heaved a defeated sigh. "Fine. But on _one_ condition."

 _Yeah, I guess I should've seen that coming._ "What is it?" Gabriel asked.

"You're to be bound while you're in here."

The Archangel stared at him. He couldn't be serious, surely? _This isn't even his shop!_ Gabriel turned to his former supervisee. "Aziraphale," he began, laughing. "Buddy. You're not actually going to agree to this, are you?"

But Aziraphale didn't seem to be all that bothered by the suggestion. "It only seems fair, don't you think, Gabriel?" he asked. "Especially after you did the same to me."

"Technically, it was Suria and Chamyel who did that."

"But it was under _your_ authority, was it not?" There was a hint of bitterness in Aziraphale's voice.

"You don't trust him with his powers?" Michael asked angrily.

"No," the traitors said in unison.

Crowley folded his arms. "Do you want to go back to Heaven or not?"

He did, but did he _have_ to be bound again? Why couldn't things ever go his way? "Very well," Gabriel said at last, and Aziraphale immediately miracled some rope before tying them to the Archangel's wrists, his face unreadable.

This was nothing short of humiliating, but at least no one else from Heaven or Hell was here to witness this.

Gabriel was then led inside and Michael and Raziel followed close behind.

Aziraphale had that forced smile plastered on his face again. "Why don't I make us some tea?" he suggested.

"None for me, thank you," Raziel said.

"Oh, you're not staying?" Aziraphale's voice almost sounded hopeful.

The archangel shook his head. "This has nothing to do with me," he explained. "Maybe this'll surprise you, but even _I_ have my standards."

 _Since when?_ Gabriel forced himself to hold his tongue. Now _he chooses to_ _value_ _privacy?_

Aziraphale nodded gratefully, and even Crowley seemed relieved with his choice.

"Very well," said the principality as he began to walk away. "And Gabriel, I know you don't like to consume human food and drinks, so it'll just be tea for three. Crowley, come with me?"

Crowley reluctantly followed, but not before taking off his glasses and glaring at his partner's unwanted guests.

Michael turned to Raziel once the pair left the three of them alone. "Are you sure you can't stay?" she asked.

Raziel smiled weakly. "Sorry. But I really think this is somethin' you two should deal with on your own."

"Oh, yes, of course."

"Before you go, Raziel," Gabriel said, his voice low, "d'you think you can leave behind some kind of recording device or something?" Just because he'd be gone didn't have to mean anything; his absence would simply be a minor setback.

Raziel and Michael both looked at him skeptically.

"What would you need a recorder for?" Michael asked.

"Raphael might ask for proof later." He hated lying, but this was a necessary evil.

Raziel hesitated, but then miracled a small, white cube-like device in his hands before giving it to Michael. "Here's an audio recorder. Just press the red button to start," he said.

She nodded and briefly glanced at her brother, as though to say, _What are you planning?_

Gabriel didn't know why she seemed so concerned. _I'm not doing anything wrong, am I?_ No, of course he wasn't! Heaven deserved to know _exactly_ who their so-called hero was.

"Make sure they don't see it," the Archangel said to his sister after Raziel left.

An amused smile tugged at Michael's lips as she took a seat beside Gabriel, placing the recorder in her shirt pocket. "So you _do_ have an ulterior motive, then."

Gabriel tried to make himself appear as innocent as possible. "Like I said, it's for Raphael. And I'm sure the traitors wouldn't appreciate it if they knew he needed evidence."

She laughed. "Oh, yes. I'm sure _Raphael_ will appreciate this." Her eyes then softened. "I just hope you know what you're doing."

Gabriel nodded and gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Michael. Have I ever been wrong before?"

"Well..."

"On second thought, forget I said anything."

He knew Michael was only teasing him, but would it really be so bad to be taken seriously? Otherwise, why put him in charge at all?

"Here we go!" Aziraphale's cheerful voice interrupted his thoughts, a plate with three cups in hand while Crowley approached them with some crepes and sat beside the principality.

 _They know this isn't necessary, right?_ Gabriel though, looking at the food. But then, it was probably more so for Michael's sake as much as it was for Aziraphale's. _At least they're making sure she doesn't starve._

"Now," the lesser angel began, holding Crowley with one hand and a crepe in the other, "let's begin, shall we?"

The siblings nodded, and Gabriel spoke first. "I know you two don't think you did anything wrong," he began, "but I'm sure you both are smart enough to understand why both of our sides were so angry with you."

"'Angry' being a gross understatement," Crowley grumbled.

"And yes, I admit that maybe I could've handled things better, but as I've said before, an example needed to be set."

"And that meant trying to kill us?" Aziraphale asked, his hand shaking as he grabbed hold of his cup.

Crowley rubbed Aziraphale's back, not taking his eyes off Gabriel. "How'd that work out for you, by the way?"

 _Why exactly does Raphael want me to get closure?_ Gabriel thought. It just didn't seem worth it.

"As I've said, I really think it'd be helpful if we continued our conversation from earlier," Michael said. "Aziraphale, you keep going on and on about responsibility, but have you ever once considered how your own actions would end up affecting _us_?"

Aziraphale sat a little straighter. "Of course I have! At the very least, I knew neither of you would've been happy, which was why I was very reluctant to go against you."

"But we did it for a good reason!" Crowley added defensively.

Michael glared at him with undisguised hatred. "Oh? And I suppose the Great Rebellion was for a 'good reason' too, right? You've absolutely no room to talk here, Crowley!"

The demon growled and began to stand, until Aziraphale sat him back down. "Calm down," he said in a tender voice. "This'll all be over soon."

 _Hopefully._ That was one thing he had to agree with Aziraphale on.

"And Michael," the principality added, "do try not to goad my boyfriend on while you're staying here. Let's just focus on recent events."

There was a spark of her anger in her eyes, and she wore a tight smile. "Of course, Aziraphale," she said, her voice strained.

Gabriel cleared his throat to get their attention. Wasn't _he_ supposed to be the one to confront them? "You both do understand the consequences, right? Now that the Apocalypse has been postponed, we'll likely have to wait another six thousand years for the next Antichrist. Unless you two idiots plan to interfere with _that_ one as well." S _peaking of, I probably should have a talk with the boy as well._

Aziraphale frowned. "Must you insult our intelligence? And anyway, I don't see why some other alternative can't be made."

Michael scoffed. "I did not spend the last six thousand years training all of you just for it to go to waste!"

"Oh, so this is about _you_ , is it?" Crowley's voice was judgemental. "Fine, so let's say there _has_ to be a war. Why not just move it to some other, uninhabited planet? Or are you really telling me that the Almighty really created Earth and filled it with life _just_ so it can all be destroyed? That we've _all_ just been wasting our time here?"

"Crowley!"

"Look, angel. All I'm saying here is that it just doesn't make any _sense_ when you really stop to think about it."

"And you've been giving this alot of thought, huh?" Gabriel deadpanned. Such blasphemous thinking, but what else could he expect from a demon? _God doesn't play dice with the universe!_ "And even if that were somehow true, this doesn't change the fact that you still went behind my back, Aziraphale. You know lying is against one of the Commandments, right?"

"So is murder," Crowley reminded him.

Aziraphale squeezed the demon's hand and smiled. "That's enough now, my dear. I can handle this."

His partner seemed reluctant, but nodded anyway.

When Aziraphale turned back to Gabriel, he said, "Yes, I'm quite aware of that. But what would you have wanted me to say? 'Gabriel, I've come to grow fond of my demonic counterpart as well as Earth, I hope that won't be a problem.' You and I have never been friends, but I know you well enough to know that none of you would've ever approved."

Gabriel and Michael glanced at each other. He wasn't wrong.

The Archangel sighed exasperatedly. "Fine, whatever! I suppose I can respect your... preferences. But let's go back to the whole 'helping to delay the Apocalypse' part. I don't think I fully realized it at the time, but I know you were trying to talk to me about preventing the war. Question is, why didn't you do that sooner?"

Aziraphale seemed to be caught off-guard by the question and took a sip of his tea. "I don't know," he admitted. "I suppose I didn't realize just how much I loved everything here until it was almost gone."

Which meant his plan hadn't been premeditated at all. _This idiot was doing everything on a_ whim _?_ Well, it certainly explained alot, at least. "And neither of you have any regrets?"

They shook their heads, and Aziraphale said, "I'm sorry for what you both had to go through following its aversion, if that's of any consolation, but no. In fact, I'd do it all over again, if I could."

"Earth isn't your battleground," Crowley added sternly. "Fight it out if you still want to, just don't get us involved!"

"Then you two are absolutely delusional!" Michael snapped. "Going against Her plan like this!"

Crowley shrugged. "That's the thing about plans, Michael: they can change."

For once, Gabriel was grateful for the bindings. _If I could throttle him, I would!_

" _This_ was your best principality?" Michael whispered to him, glancing at Aziraphale.

"I thought he was," he replied. He couldn't help but think maybe this was his fault. _I should've been more attentive, more strict._ After all, hadn't Lucifer been God's favored angel before the Fall?

"There's still another matter that we must address," Michael said to Aziraphale. "What happened to your sword?"

Aziraphale's eyes widened, looking like he really didn't want to be here right now. "Er, well... You see..."

"It's at my flat!" Crowley blurted out.

Gabriel stared at the traitors in disbelief. "You gave your sword to a _demon_?" How stupid could one angel be? _On the bright side, hopefully this'll help put this whole revolution nonsense to rest._

Aziraphale relaxed and looked at Crowley affectionately. "I trust him," he said.

_More than your own kind, apparently!_

Aziraphale smiled kindly. "But what about _you_ , Gabriel?"

"What?"

"Do _you_ have any regrets?"

The Archangel laughed. Regrets? _Him_? _Preposterous!_ _And if he's hoping I'll apologize for trying to make him face the consequences, he's dreaming!_ "What would I have to regret?" he asked. "Although, if I'd known just how much of a useless angel you'd make, I never would've wasted my time with you."

Aziraphale flinched, and Gabriel forced himself to stamp out any guilt. So what if he was cruel? _He deserves it!_ If he couldn't hurt Aziraphale physically, then emotionally would have to do. "I saw potential in you, Aziraphale. You were a decent fighter during the first war and I saw how big your heart was when you helped care for the injured, but maybe that's your biggest flaw right there—you care _too much_."

"And that's suddenly a bad thing for you?" Crowley asked, putting a protective arm around Aziraphale. "Aren't angels supposed to be all about love and kindness?"

"We're also warriors," Gabriel said proudly. "And that means not being allowed to form attachments with the enemy or a certain location."

"We all knew the plan," Michael said gently. "You both should've been more careful."

 _Is she talking to Aziraphale or herself?_ Gabriel thought. He'd been meaning to talk to her about the whole Ligur thing, but that could wait. "Michael's right."

Aziraphale frowned. "I can't possibly be the only angel who fell in love with Earth."

"You aren't." A familiar image briefly flashed in the Archangel's mind, one of a little boy and his virgin mother. Times had been so simple then.

"We've all done it at some point," Michael added, and Gabriel thought he detected sadness in her voice. "But unlike you, the rest of us woke up."

"You're saying I'm being unrealistic?"

Gabriel nodded. Nothing lasted forever, and just how long would it be before Crowley grew tired of his partner?

"Well, I think you're wrong!" Aziraphale took a bite out of his crepe.

"Of course you do." _Let's try a different approach, then._ One that would surely snap him back to reality. "Aziraphale," he began before the younger angel could continue, "you remember the Watchers, right?"

Michael shot him a warning glare. "Gabriel!"

"Let him speak, sis."

The principality blinked. "I... believe so. But what does—"

"You know why they _Fell_ , right?"

Aziraphale flinched.

"Back off, Gabriel!" Crowley hissed, beginning to stand.

Gabriel tried not to be bothered by the aggression. "Let him answer." _He needs to learn._

Aziraphale gripped his cup tightly. "Th-they Fell because they interfered too much."

"Exactly. They taught the humans things they were never meant to know and eventually," Gabriel shuddered, " _procreated_ with them."

"This is different!"

"Is it?" He laughed. "You put your love for Earth above your duty to Heaven, just like Samyaza and his followers. And as far as I'm concerned, you're _lucky_ you didn't—"

"That's _ENOUGH_!" Michael slammed her fist on the table, droplets of tea splattering onto it. Her gaze was intense when she glared at Gabriel, a fiery anger mixed with grief. "How dare you? How _dare_ you say such things to frighten him!?"

 _Uh oh._ A quick glance, and he noticed even Aziraphale and Crowley seemed surprised by her reaction.

"You _know_ how much of a tragedy the Falls were, how many precious angels we lost!"

"Like _you've_ never used it to threaten someone before," Gabriel retorted, and this time, part of him was glad to see her flinch again. "I'm sorry if I'm coming off as cruel, but—"

"Michael's right." Aziraphale stood, his eyes colder than Gabriel had ever seen them. Snapping his fingers and releasing him from the bindings, he said, "In fact, I believe it's time for you to leave."

Gabriel rubbed his wrists as he stood. "Finally, we agree on something." Twice in one day. What a miracle.

"I'll lead him out." Michael stood and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tightly.

Gabriel winced. "Careful," he hissed as they approached the door.

Michael released her hold on him as he opened the door and took out the recorder. "Before I hand this to you," she began, her voice cold, "give me one good reason why I should."

Gabriel sighed, forcing himself to keep calm. "Like I said, it's for Raphael. Hopefully he won't ask me to come here again."

"Hm. Hopefully." She pressed the device into his palm and he expected her to say more, but she kept quiet and simply gave him a look of disappointment.

"Right. Well, I'll see you when you get back." Gabriel hugged her, but she didn't do the same in return. _Let_ _her be_ _mad,_ he thought. _She'll forgive me later._

"Give Raphael my regards," she said as he stepped outside.

He smiled and nodded. "Sure thing." _Even though he should've been here, too._ "Maybe afterwards, we can—"

Michael shut the door before he could finish.


	19. Chapter 19

When Haniel agreed to help mediate, he hadn't realized how hard it would be to try and please everyone.

' _The seraphim are much too powerful!_ _'_

' _The Angels are too whiny._ _'_

' _The third sphere should be held accountable for their actions!_ _'_

The hardest part was setting aside his own loyalty to the cause and his fellow principalities for the sake of peace. How had Jesus been able to do this for so long?

"Everything alright, Haniel?"

The angel looked up from the pile of complaints and immediately stood when he realized it was the Son. "Everything is well, Lord," he said, bowing his head. "I was simply looking over the grievances."

He glanced up to see Jesus approach him with those usual kind eyes of his. "Difficult, isn't it?"

"Very," Haniel admitted, chuckling. "But it's worth it."

The Son nodded approvingly. "I appreciate you taking the time to do this. I know it can't be easy putting your own biases aside."

 _Well, it's not like I had much of a choice, did I?_ But he couldn't say that aloud. Besides, it could always be worse. "Has there been any change since the meeting?" Besides the short trip to Earth, he hadn't even left his office since the fight broke out; even Raguel and Cerviel had yet to speak to him. But then, it wasn't like he wanted to see anyone anyway. All he knew was that Jesus and His disciples were somehow handling it.

The Son beamed. "I believe there's been improvement! Of course, there's the occasional spat here and there, but, as they say, baby steps."

 _Or maybe they're just letting you see what they want you to see._ For things to go back to normal so quickly seemed impossible. "That's great! And again, I... I deeply apologize for what happened." And he meant it. _I never wanted for things to go this far._ Briefly, he glanced at the papers. All this time, he'd been so focused on his own resentment that he failed to notice that of the others.

Jesus rested a hand on his shoulder. "We can't change the past, but we _can_ learn from it. The fact that you're even acknowledging your wrongdoings is a good step forward."

Wrongdoings. There was just something about that word that Haniel couldn't help be bothered by, but the principality forced himself to swallow his pride. "Of course, Lord," he said, the words feeling forced. _The revolution can wait for now,_ he thought reluctantly.

Haniel half expected for the Son of God to continue, to say some words of wisdom using a stone metaphor or something, so he was surprised when Jesus picked up one of the complaints, specifically the one requesting the third sphere should be punished.

 _We did nothing wrong!_ Haniel wondered exactly which angel had written it, and why they hadn't spoken out before. But alas, the complaints were all anonymous and completely untraceable.

Jesus frowned as he went through each one. "Hm. I hadn't realized angels could hold so much anger in their hearts."

 _Maybe if you were around us more often, you'd know._ Haniel was disgusted with himself. Was he really going to start blaming the Savior Himself for Heaven's problems, ones that had started long before He'd come into being? "I don't think anyone here really communicates," he said. "We were all really scared of Michael after the Falls that I guess it just became a force of habit of sorts."

The only acknowledgment he got was an understanding nod. "Communication..." Jesus repeated, his voice barely a whisper. A smile slowly formed on his lips again as his eyes shined. "Do you mind if I take these off your hands for a bit?" He asked, hugging the papers as though they were the most precious things in the universe.

Haniel quickly shook his head, relieved to be free of the burden. "Be my guest. But, if I may ask, what is it you plan to do with them?"

"If all goes well, I'm going to give communication back to Heaven!"

"That didn't answer my question at all."

But Jesus was already on His way out the door. "Just trust Me. I shall send word for you later." And with that, He was gone.

 _Was He always this strange?_ Haniel thought with a slight tilt of his head. Maybe that was why Gabriel got along so well with Him. "I just hope He knows what He's doing."

Wait, what was he saying? _Of course_ the Son knew what he was doing! He was part of Her, and if anyone could bring peace to their home, it was Him.

But then another thought came to mind: why wasn't God helping? He didn't like to question Her, no sensible angel ever did, but the more Haniel thought about it, the more he thought how strange it was for Her to not say anything at all on the recent events. Didn't She care?

 _Of course she does!_ She was just busy. _Very_ busy.

Haniel shook his head again to rid himself of his blasphemous thoughts. Why couldn't things ever be simple? Perhaps spending some time with his siblings would do him so good. _They must be worried sick about me,_ he thought, locking up his office.

Why was he so hesitant to come out of his office again?

"There he is!"

 _Ah. That's why_. Haniel put on a smile when he faced the hostile angels. He noticed they were from different ranks, and he didn't know whether to be proud or annoyed; they were united in anger, but united nonetheless. "Good day, everyone."

"Don't 'good day, everyone' us!" Mizrael growled. "You have alot of explaining to do!"

 _I don't have time for this!_ "If you all want to talk about the cause, need I remind you all that you _chose_ to follow me?"

"That's not what I meant!" Mitzrael's face was beginning to turn red.

Noriel spoke next, her tone calm. "What Mitzrael means is... did you know? What Nithael was capable of, I mean?"

Haniel took a step back, eyes widened. "Of course I didn't!" _First the Metatron, now them?_ Was this what they had been thinking for the past three days now? "How could you even ask me that?"

"Do you really think it's neccessary to explain ourselves?" asked the seraph Cassiel.

Haniel shook his head. "Look, I get the timing is suspicious, but I swear to you, everyone, I was just as surprised as you all were!"

"Liar!" Amaliel hissed. "I saw you that day in the auditorium, how pleased you seem with yourself!"

_Pleased?_

"And don't even get me started on your treatment towards that little Angel! We should've never followed you!"

Members from the second and third spheres murmured in agreement, glaring at him. They all looked just about ready to tear him to shreds.

 _No!_ Haniel made a fist and clenched his teeth. _I won't take the blame for this!_ Not again, and especially not when their accusations were completely untrue. "You all should've thought of that before you did!" he growled, and he was almost glad to see some of them look uncomfortable. "And as I've already said, I knew absolutely nothing of Nithael's plot. But if I am to be blamed indirectly as well, then know that not a single one of you is innocent either if we're to follow that logic!"

Several more angels looked ashamed of themselves. Good. _If they're going to drag me down, I might as well return the favor._

"Is everything alright here?" asked a voice from behind the various angels. They all moved aside to reveal Saint Peter, and they and Haniel all briefly bowed their heads.

"Everything is fine, Peter," Haniel said, smiling. It wouldn't do well for the disciple to get involved in any tension. _I don't want to burden him with this._ "They just wanted to know why I haven't come out of my office until now."

Peter looked skeptical and swept his gaze across the other angels, as though asking for confirmation.

They all nodded.

The saint relaxed. "Well, so long as no one is fighting." Looking at the principality, he said, "By the way, Haniel, I thought I'd let you know that Raphael has returned. He's currently at the aviary."

Haniel tried not to blush at the mention of his partner. _I told him we had everything under control!_ Just like Raphael to worry, even despite reassurance. "Thank you, Peter." _No mention of Gabriel, though. Strange._

He nodded to all of them and walked away. As soon as he was out of sight, the angels all breathed sighs of relief.

"I suppose we're in your debt now?" Cassiel asked sarcastically.

 _Do they really think so lowly_ _of_ _me?_ No matter. Things would go back to normal soon. "Absolutely not." Smugly, he added, "If I wanted you all to be in my debt, it certainly wouldn't be after covering you from _Peter_ of all people."

Cassiel growled, but Haniel pretended not to notice.

"Now, if you'll all excuse me," he said as he began to walk, "I don't want to keep Raph waiting." _Idiots._

* * *

Haniel never understood just _why_ an aviary was needed. Angels could transform into birds just fine, couldn't they? _But I guess we need to find_ some _use for the deceased animals._

The room was spacious, with plenty of sunlight coming in. There were trees that seemed to stretch on forever and each bird was placed in its own unique habitat upon its Earthly life coming to an end. Knowing Raphael, he was likely where the columbidae were.

"Raphael?" he called out when he reached the dove enclosure.

"Over here, dear," came the response just beyond the trees.

Haniel followed the voice and soon found the Archangel sitting on a large boulder, tending to the doves by feeding them.

"There you go, little ones," he said softly as he threw birdseed on the ground. After a moment, he glanced at Haniel and blinked affectionately. "Hello, love."

Haniel smiled awkwardly. He and Raphael never did get to talk about what happened after he told him about the angels fighting each other. _Is he avoiding the subject on purpose?_ "I didn't expect to see you back so soon," he said after hugging him. "Where's Gabriel?" He looked around, but couldn't see the Archangel anywhere.

Raphael suddenly looked uncomfortable. "He's still on Earth. I sent him to talk with Aziraphale and Crowley while we were in England."

Haniel froze. "You _what_?"

"Well, I had to distract him _somehow_!"

"By sending him to the ones he hates most?" How could someone so wonderful be so stupid? "And what did you mean by 'distract'?"

"Do you really think he'd be able to handle more tension?"

Haniel briefly considered it. "I... suppose you have a point there." Gabriel seemed so stressed lately, perhaps some time on Earth would do him some good and improve his personality. "But if Aziraphale gets hurt, it's going to be all on you."

"You don't trust your own brother?"

"You don't seem to trust yours."

Raphael winced, and Haniel wasn't sure if he should feel guilty or not. "You're getting more blunt, I see," the Archangel said dryly. "And don't worry. Aziraphale will be fine, and Gabriel wouldn't dare risk ruining his reputation."

"Any more than he already has, you mean." Haniel finally took a seat beside him and rested his head on Raphael's shoulder. "But I'm so glad you're here. It's been a rather stressful few days."

Raphael was silent for a moment, and then he asked, "How have things been since the fighting?"

Haniel shrugged. "I only just left my office, but Jesus seems to think things are going well. Although, I also did just get accused of conspiring with Nithael. Can you believe it?"

He laughed at the ridiculousness of it all and expected for Raphael join in, or comfort him, or even just smile.

What he didn't expect was silence once again, this seeming more unbearable than the last.

"Raphael?" Haniel furrowed his brow. "Y-you don't actually believe that, do you? You _know_ I had nothing do with this, right?" His chest suddenly felt tight. He could tolerate the others saying such things, but his own partner as well?

Raphael was briefly alarmed and placed a hand on Haniel's shoulder. "Deep breaths, Haniel," he instructed. "In and out."

The principality did as he was told, beginning to relax each time he exhaled.

"Better?" Raphael asked after a minute.

Haniel slowly nodded.

"Good." Raphael pecked his cheek. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. But surely you could've come up with a different approach that didn't involve a public trial?"

Haniel rolled his eyes. "Like what? Your siblings and Sandalphon had abused their positions for far too long and trying to kill Aziraphale was the final straw. I had to do _something_! Or would you have wanted me to remain compliant?" _Like_ you've _been over the years._ The more he thought about it, the more he realized he couldn't even remember the last time Raphael defended anyone after he returned to Heaven.

There was disappointment in Raphael's eyes and he opened his mouth, but a dove flew by before he could speak and landed on his shoulder. Haniel immediately noticed it had a small tube of paper tied to its leg.

"Thank you," Raphael said to the bird after untying the message. "Now go join your brothers and sisters." The Archangel helped the bird to the ground and then read silently, his face alight.

"What is it?" Haniel asked.

"It's Gabriel!" he said. "He's done as I told and should be returning to Heaven any second now." Standing up, he added, "I should go greet him at the gate. Would you like to come?"

It was a tempting offer, but Haniel shook his head wordlessly. He wasn't ready to face Gabriel again.

Raphael nodded in understanding. "Very well. We'll just talk later, then."

Later, later, _always_ later. _Maybe I_ should _go with him._

But before Haniel could voice his thoughts, Raphael was already gone.

* * *

Haniel did his best to ignore the suspicious and resentful eyes and jeers as he made his way to Cerviel's office. Hopefully his sibling was faring better than he was.

"Cerviel," he said, knocking on the door. "I got your message."

Soon enough, they opened the door and they smiled brightly when they saw him. "Haniel! Please come in!" Cerviel practically dragged him inside.

"What was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Haniel asked after Cerviel let go of him.

For a moment, the younger principality looked confused. "Oh! Nothing serious. I heard you'd come out of your office, so I just wanted to see if you were okay."

Haniel couldn't resist laughing. "That's sweet of you, dear, but next time—"

Before he could finish his sentence, the door slammed opened and in came Raziel, looking furious. Wasn't he still supposed to be on guardian duty?

Cerviel however seemed completely unfazed by this. "Hi, Raziel."

"Don't, 'hi, Raziel' me!" the archangel growled. "Why didn't ya tell me everyone quit?"

The younger principality briefly glanced apologetically at their brother. "I was busy thinking of a way to break it to you gently."

"Wait, the _Celestial Observer_ shut down?" Haniel asked.

Raziel finally noticed him, and Haniel was met with hostility. "You! This is all _your_ fault!"

 _Oh, here we go again._ Maybe he should just go back to his office until things calmed down.

"'A strike won't be effective,' you said. 'Just focus on your little newspaper' you said! Well, I hope you're happy now, mister!"

Cerviel stepped in between the two angels and looked at their friend. "Please, Raziel. Not now. We're only just now making some improvements on peace around here."

Raziel began to relax. "Oh, fine. But you still owe me an explanation."

Cerviel nodded seriously. "And one I will do my best to give! How about over drinks?"

The archangel sighed. "That sounds like a swell idea. 'Cause after the day I've been havin', I think I'm gonna need somethin' strong."

Raziel left afterwards, and Cerviel turned back to their brother. "Sorry about that, Haniel. You don't mind if we talk later, do you?"

Haniel was really beginning to despise that word, but he forced a smile and nodded. "Of course not. Go be with your friend."

"Thank you."

Haniel followed Cerviel outside and watched the two angels leave, feeling a prick of envy. Was this the price for change? This feeling of loneliness? The rest of Heaven couldn't stay mad at him forever, surely? And whatever Jesus had planned would no doubt be very effective in the long run.

"At least things can't possibly get any worse," Haniel told himself as he headed back to his office.

And then he was startled by screams.

"Someone stop them!"

 _More_ fighting? He saw a few nearby angels looking up towards the open skylight with frightened expressions and followed their gazes.

Haniel gaped and had to put a hand against a wall to stop himself from falling over. _This can't be happening. Not again! Not with him involved._ The principality squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again in hopes he was somehow just imagining things, but another glance upward crushed them.

Two angels fighting again wasn't the problem, but it was _who_ they were that was the main concern.

Up there, with their wings spread and their swords clashing, were Raphael and Gabriel.


	20. Chapter 20

"Welcome back," Raphael said cheerfully as he greeted Gabriel at the gate with open arms. "How's Michael?"

"She seems well enough," Gabriel said as they walked inside. At least he was asking for her. "She's living in Aziraphale's bookshop now." _Unfortunately._

Raphael apparently didn't see anything wrong with this. "Oh, how wonderful! It'll be much easier for them to talk things out, then."

 _Sure,_ that's _what's important here._ Maybe it was too much to ask for the healer to side with his own siblings. "By the way, the next time you want me to 'get closure,' don't get involved! I seriously could've gone the rest of my life without seeing either of them again!"

Raphael's face fell. "Was it that bad?"

Gabriel laughed. "'That bad' doesn't even begin to describe it! First of all, how dare you _force_ me to talk with that pathetic excuse for an angel? And did you even think that they wouldn't have wanted to see me at all?"

The guilt etched on Raphael's face told him he didn't. "Your letter said you were able to speak with them."

"And I did... _after_ they bounded me." Aziraphale was lucky he was technically no longer in Gabriel's employ. "And they don't even regret their actions!"

"Well, why would they?" Raphael asked, not looking at him as they kept walking. "Their goal was to save Earth. And if God wanted to destroy the planet, don't you think She would've done so by now, rather than relying on the child of our enemy to do it?"

Gabriel almost reminded him that God hadn't been seen since the '60s, but decided it was best to speak of about it in private. " _Please_ don't tell me you're siding with them."

Raphael shrugged. "All I'm saying is that you can't really blame them for how they feel."

 _And you can blame_ me _, I suppose?_

"And besides, does losing more angels really sound preferable to you?"

Gabriel shook his head. "Of course not. But Hell's army is weak. We could've easily taken them on without losing anyone."

"You don't know that. All that was prophesied was that Michael and Satan would fight for one final time. We were never told who would win." Raphael then laughed. "Unless you've been believing our own propaganda."

Gabriel frowned. "What's wrong with wanting us to win?"

"Nothing. Just that we can't get too cocky."

_Cocky?_

"Anyway," Raphael continued, "did you at least apologize?"

Gabriel hesitated. Admitting you could've handled things better counted as an apology, right?

"It's a yes or no question, Gabriel," Raphael said impatiently.

He was about to answer, when he took notice of two angels nearby. Gabriel couldn't hear what they were saying, but from the way their bodies were tensed up and seeing that their hands were balled up, it looked like they were arguing.

 _Michael said something about things being tense,_ he reminded himself. But this didn't seem to be too bad. _Everyone argues now and then, so what's the problem?_

He soon got his answer when both angels drew their swords.

Raphael noticed as well, his eyes wide with alarm, and he went over to them.

"Why are they armed?" Gabriel asked frantically as he followed him. Swords were typically only to be used during training.

Raphael ignored him in favor of the two younger angels. "What do you two think you're doing?" he demanded.

They jumped at the sound of his voice, and with a closer look, Gabriel realized they couldn't have been older than a few centuries at most. Not much to be worried about, then. Just a pair of young, low-ranked Angels who still didn't know any better.

"Nothing, Raphael," they said in unison, dropping their swords to their sides as they bowed their heads.

"Didn't look like 'nothing' to me!" The healer's gaze fell on the weapons. "What are your names?"

The two Angels almost seemed offended.

 _This is a big place,_ Gabriel thought. _Give us a break!_

"Aliza, sir," answered the taller of the two.

The other gripped her sword tightly. "And I'm Noam."

"Well, Aliza and Noam," Raphael began, "you should know well enough by now that swords are only meant for training or battle."

Gabriel held out a hand. "Come on, cough 'em up. You'll get them back when we can trust you with them again."

Aliza hesitated, but eventually relented. Noam however simply glared at the Archangel.

 _Another one of Haniel's followers,_ Gabriel guessed. _Great._

Raphael smiled gently at the disobeyer. "Come on, now. It's only fair."

Noam's eyes softened when she looked at Raphael and she nodded, giving the sword over to him.

"Thank you," Raphael said and gave the sword to Gabriel, who poofed the sharp objects to Heaven's armory. "Now, I believe answering one hundred prayers each would be a suitable punishment."

The Angels looked ready to protest, but instead bowed their heads again. "Yes, Raphael," they said and scurried along.

 _They listen to him so easily,_ Gabriel thought jealously as he watched the two Angels leave. Why couldn't it still be that way for _him_?

Or had it ever been that way for him? And how many of his orders had been followed out of fear and not due to genuine loyalty? _But what reason would they have to fear me before recently?_ He'd been the best manager he could possibly be, what more did they want from him?

"Gabriel?"

Raphael's voice snapped the Archangel back to reality, and he noticed his brother had already started walking ahead of him.

"Are you coming?" the healer asked, a hint of concern on his face.

Gabriel quickly nodded his head. "Yeah, yeah! Sorry about that!" He couldn't help look to where the Angels had been standing. "What do you suppose that was about?"

Raphael shrugged. "Probably some petty argument or other."

 _Petty argument?_ It wasn't like his brother to be so dismissive towards heated disputes. "Michael said something earlier about there being tension around here. You wouldn't happen to—"

"Of course not!" Raphael quickly interrupted, and this only caused Gabriel to feel more suspicious. "Now, why don't we just continue this in my office, hm? You can tell me everything when we get there."

* * *

Raphael stopped the recording just after Gabriel had mentioned the Watchers. His green eyes darkened as he rested his chin on folded hands, saying nothing as the seconds ticked by, as though he were trying to process what he'd just heard.

Gabriel made an attempt to break the silence after clearing his throat. "It's really not as bad as—"

Raphael interrupted him by raising his hand. "Not that bad? Gabriel, you essentially tried to _exploit a tragedy_ just so you could try to get a point across!"

Michael had said something similar, but somehow hearing it from Raphael made it worse, and hearing his own words played back to him didn't exactly help matters, either. _It's too late for regrets,_ Gabriel told himself. And what did he have to feel guilty of, anyway? _Aziraphale was the one who messed up the most, the one who thinks everything will be fine and dandy just because he helped stop one Apocalypse_.

Raphael took a deep breath, almost as though he was trying to stay calm. "I just don't see how you can be so insensitive."

 _Insensi..._ Gabriel let out a bark of laughter to stop himself from lashing out. "Insensitive? You think _I'm_ insensitive? God, you're such a _hypocrite_!"

Raphael's eyes flashed with anger. "Excuse me?"

"You're excused."

"And how, pray tell, have I been hypocritical?"

Gabriel pretended to think for a second. "Let's see... how about consistently pushing me to speak with Aziraphale even though you know perfectly well I wasn't ready. Don't you think _that's_ a bit insensitive?"

"Hm, perhaps. But if I hadn't, you never would've been." Raphael briefly glanced at the recorder. "Congrats on making things worse, by the way. Tell me, how _did_ Michael take to you mentioning the very thing that led her to fall into deep despair for months?"

 _Oh, so_ that's _how he wants to play!_ "About as well as when you told her you abandoned Azazel in the desert after asking God to Fell him."

Gabriel knew he hit a nerve when he saw Raphael flinch and took the opportunity to continue. "And while we're at it, why don't we talk about how you've been all cryptic lately, huh? I _know_ you've been keeping secrets, so don't even try denying it!"

Raphael stood and loomed over Gabriel. He never looked more furious. "Get out of my office!"

"Why? Afraid something will slip? Or is it because you know I'm right?"

"You know, I think I'm finally beginning to see why Haniel rebelled. Honestly, why Michael put _you_ in charge is well beyond me!"

Now it was Gabriel's turn to flinch. _He doesn't mean it, he's just blowing off steam._ They both were. So then why did his words still hurt?

"Please just leave." This time Raphael's voice was soft as he sat back down, and Gabriel almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

 _Why should I_ _listen_ _to anything he says ever again?_ "Oh, but don't you want to talk things out?" he asked mockingly. "Perhaps repeatedly bringing it up until you do as I say should do the—"

"I said LEAVE!"

 _Oh, no._ Maybe he _should_ have listened one last time, because the next thing Gabriel knew, he was flying across the room when a blast of bright energy hit him. He grunted when he hit a wall.

Raphael gasped. "Gabriel! Oh God, I'm so sorry!" He quickly went over to his brother's side and knelt beside him. "Are you hurt?" he asked frantically. "Is anything broken?"

But Gabriel felt fine, and maybe Raphael being a healer had something to do with it. And yet, he still attacked. Maybe those two Angels had been onto something. Talking clearly wasn't doing either of them any wonders, so then why not sort out their issues some other way?

Slowly, the Archangel stood and immediately summoned his sword.

Raphael took a step back. "G-Gabriel? W-what are you—"

"Grab your sword. We're settling this once and for all."

* * *

"What were you both _thinking_?"

Raphael had his head bowed to Jesus, but snuck a glance at Gabriel. The younger Archangel stood proud and tall and defiant, as though he thought it'd been perfectly fine for him to challenge his own brother. _I've heard of finding outlets for your anger, but really!_

Or maybe having been the Son's guardian had certain advantages.

 _I attacked first,_ Raphael reminded himself, his heart heavy with guilt. What _had_ he been thinking? But perhaps the swordfight had been a good idea; spitting insults amongst the clashing of sharp metal aside, Raphael had felt strangely calmer by the time Peter interrupted them. Hopefully it helped Gabriel, too.

And yet, seeing the younger Archangel with his sword, challenging him and having only just recently seen his vanity and cruelty with his own eyes...

"Raphael?"

The healer finally stood and looked at Him in the eye. Had Jesus known what he'd been thinking? "Yes, Lord?"

"I wish to speak with Gabriel in private, please," He said gently.

The older Archangel nodded. "Yes, Lord." Raphael glanced at Gabriel even as he was leaving the throne room, but not once did his brother look back. _I guess I deserve it._

He'd only just begun to step away from the throne room's gilded doors when he heard Haniel's distressed cry as he rushed in and nearly tackled Raphael to the ground.

The Metatron followed close behind, scowling. "What part of 'you must make an appointment' do you angels not understand?"

Haniel ignored him. "Are you alright?" he quickly asked Raphael, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. "You aren't hurt are you? Is Gabriel with the Trinity now? I'll make sure he pays for attacking you!"

"Haniel!" Raphael slightly pushed him away. "I'm fine, truly. And please don't blame Gabriel, this was all my fault."

"And do be more mindful of your words, Haniel," the Metatron said as he took a seat at his desk. "You _lost_ , remember?"

Resentment flashed in the principality's eyes, so quick that Raphael nearly missed it. "Of course, Metatron."

The Voice of God nodded. "Good. Now do me a favor and get out of my office!"

* * *

Reassuring other angels that you were fine after sparring with your brother was much harder than Raphael thought it'd be, especially when it came to speaking to those in his own rank.

"Really, I'm _fine_ ," he said to his fellow seraphim. They'd hounded him as soon as he entered the break room. "And anyway, Gabriel—"

"Has clearly gone mad with power!" Cassiel snarled. "I propose we get rid of him now before we get another Morningstar!"

The agreements left Raphael appalled.

"Absolutely not!" the healer snapped. "Have you all gone mad? He's our _brother_!"

"More so yours than ours," Barakiel pointed out. "But I'm sure even _you_ can't deny the similarities, Raphael. Lucifer was one of us as well, and we all know how _that_ ended."

The other Archangels nodded, and Raphael felt guilty that he couldn't even disagree with them. This was _exactly_ what he'd been afraid of ever since Gabriel had become manager.

 _He hasn't Fallen yet!_ And with God and Michael both absent, hopefully he never would. There was still a chance to save him. "That's enough!" Raphael said sternly. "I will hear no more of this!"

"But—"

"No! Now go on to your duties, all of you."

They all seemed reluctant to leave the discussion be, but thankfully obeyed. Soon, Raphael was the only one left in the break room and he flopped down on a nearby sofa. _Lord, as Your loyal servant, grant me guidance!_


	21. Chapter 21

Michael was still awake by the time Raziel returned, just barely noticing him while reading her book.

"Hoped you'd be sleepin'," he said as he sat beside her on the sofa. "Is it the nightmares again?"

She shook her head. He still didn't know what'd been keeping her up at night and she fully intended to keep it that way. "Speaking of, I wish you'd stop wasting miracles on me. A few days without rest won't do me any harm."

"This just tells me how little you know about the human body." Awkwardly, he asked, "So, uh... where's Aziraphale? I'm guessin' that talk with Gabriel didn't go over too well?"

Michael sighed. She'd hoped he wouldn't ask her. "You guess correctly." She hesitated, unsure of how much she should tell him. Everything about it had been horrible, from Aziraphale and Crowley refusing to see reason to Gabriel mentioning the Watchers. It'd only been out of pity—and perhaps in an attempt to avoid her—that the principality agreed to leave her alone for the night, though not without taking more than a few books with him to Crowley's flat first.

Raziel must've sensed her discomfort, because he moved away from her afterwards. "It's fine if you don't wanna talk 'bout it."

She nodded appreciatively. "Thank you. Although, I will say all three of them were being unreasonable. Gabriel most of all, if I'm being honest." Michael understood why he'd done so, but surely he could've gotten his point across some other way?

Raziel was the one who seemed uncomfortable now.

"What?"

His eyes were downcast. "Speakin' of Gabriel... Sorry, I'm just not sure how much to tell ya."

What did her brother do now? "Take your time, Raziel," she said gently. "But if it's important—"

"It... might be."

Now he was just confusing her. "Raziel, whatever it is, it can't possibly be any worse than him mentioning the Watchers."

Too late, she realized what she'd just said.

Raziel's eyes widened. "He did what now?"

Michael returned her eyes to her book, doing her best to appear indifferent. He already knew she missed Azazel, but there was no way she was going to let him know about her outburst. "Just something he did to scare Aziraphale."

"Well, are you okay?"

Part of her was surprised by how concerned he sounded, when just a few days ago he seemed so determined to convince her that Ligur never cared for her. "I'm fine. There's no need to worry. Now, about Gabriel..."

The archangel frowned. "I guess there's no use in hidin' it now," he said. "Remember when I told ya 'bout the tension back home?"

She slowly closed her book. "Yes...? You also told me that the Son and the disciples were handling it." Had things gotten worse? And what did Gabriel have to do with it?

Raziel took a seat on the sofa again. "Right. Well, what I didn't tell you is that the other angels may have, sort of, maybe..." He mumbled the last part.

Michael leaned in closer. "What?"

He sighed. "The other angels have been fightin' each other. _Outside_ of trainin'."

A pause.

Then came the uncontrollable laughter. He was joking. _Surely_ he had to be joking. It wasn't even that funny, but at least it was better than panicking. "G-good one, Raziel."

But he wasn't joining in, only looking at her with pity.

The laughter slowly died down. "Y-you're not joking, are you?"

He shook his head. "I really wish I was."

"And are you _absolutely_ _sure_ it wasn't just battle training?"

He nodded.

Okay, so a few angels weren't getting along. No matter. "How bad was the fighting?"

He avoided her eyes again. "Noriel said that most of the Host was involved."

Michael barely noticed the book slipping out of her hands and hitting the floor as she stared at him. _Another_ threat of civil war? She gritted her teeth and grabbed Raziel by his suit. "What the bloody Hell were you thinking, keeping this a secret from me?" She knew he was her guardian, but she didn't think that meant not telling her about a potential war.

The archangel winced at her anger. "I said it was bein' taken care of!" he said defensively.

"Oh, and that makes everything better, I suppose?"

"Yes...?"

Michael groaned and let him go. Just when she thought she could trust him, he does _this_. "And how does Gabriel fit into all this?" She already regretted asking.

Raziel hesitated again. "Well, you see, earlier, he and Raphael—"

"Never mind, forget I asked!" _Gabriel is already under alot of scrutiny, is he_ trying _to make things_ _worse_ _for himself?_ And then there was Raphael, who no doubt said or did _something_ to set him off. Was it really too much to ask for all of them to be a normal family? _Oh, who am I kidding?_ 'Normal' hadn't been a thing in Heaven since Lucifer's rebellion.

And now there'd been another. With the way things were going, Heaven would indeed have its second war, just not the one they'd all been expecting. It'd simply be the one they'd all feared.

"I'm really sorry for not telling you sooner," Raziel said. "I just didn't want you to worry."

"Then why are you telling me this _now_?"

"You've gotta understand," he began. "The revolution was failin' and the _Observer_ shut down, so—"

Michael growled. "So the only reason you're telling me this now is because you felt like you had nothing left to lose?"

His guilt and silence said everything.

 _Unbelievable!_ But at least a few good things had come out of all this madness, and the knowledge that Haniel had lost was one of them.

Michael rubbed her temple. "I have to get back." Heaven needed her, now more than ever whether the rest of the angels liked it or not. What if Hell caught wind of this? _Oh God, what if this had been Nithael's plan all along?_ Divide and conquer, such a clever demon.

"Forty months, remember?" Raziel said gently.

"To Hell with the forty months!" Michael growled. "I need to get back home _now_! So make yourself useful and contact Nithael."

Raziel frowned, as though annoyed at being ordered around. "I know you're gettin' irritated, but like I said, it's already bein' taken care of. And Nithael said she'll come back in a month anyway." He began to reach out a hand towards her. "Maybe we should—"

Michael swatted his hand away. "I don't _have_ a month!" Why wasn't he as concerned about this as she was? "I trust the Trinity and the disciples to be able to control it, but how long do you suppose that will last?" How long would it be before another Lucifer or Samyaza came about? The risk was simply too great.

_So is contacting a demon._

Raziel never gave her an answer.

 _Well, if he's not going to do it, then..._ Michael sighed. "At least do me the courtesy of leaving me be for the night. Please."

He hesitated at first, but eventually stood. "Of course. But you sure you'll be able to sleep this time?"

Sleep was the least of her worries right now, but Michael simply nodded wordlessly.

"Okay, then." Raziel finally left her side, and the former Archangel stayed where she was until she heard the door close.

And then she reluctantly went to grab some candles.

* * *

Nithael looked taller compared to the last time Michael saw her, resembling a young woman with long blonde hair and wearing a black dress.

For a moment, she feared she'd done something wrong until the demon asked, "What do you want, Michael?" Her arms were crossed after stepping out of the summoning circle and she tapped her foot impatiently. "And do make this quick. This was supposed to be my one night off."

The former Archangel made sure to keep her distance even as the temperature returned to normal. "My apologies, Nithael. But about my... punishment. I was just hoping—"

"No."

"But you don't even know what I was going to say!"

Nithael rolled her eyes. "Let me guess, you want me to remove it, right?"

Michael nodded. It was best to just be direct with her. "Well, of course I do."

Nithael groaned. "Satan, you can be so bloody transparent sometimes, you know that? And my answer remains the same. You still have a lesson to learn, remember? Besides," she added, smiling with shining eyes, "it's just so much fun seeing you like this, all vulnerable and everything."

"Well, I'm glad I could amuse you," Michael said dryly. "And what lesson am I even supposed to be learning? I already know I've been a horrible leader." Before, it would've been hard to admit, but now she'd come to terms with it. Her angels deserved better.

The demon seemed to appreciate this, but then shook her head. "If I told you, it wouldn't be very helpful, would it?" she asked.

 _And I thought_ God _was cryptic._ "Well, then, at least tell me why you even care if I do good deeds or not. I thought demons didn't care for that sort of thing."

"We don't," Nithael said bluntly. "But I have my reasons. And before you ask, no, I'm not going to completely remove the other one, either. These are things you must earn."

Earn? Michael almost laughed. The problem had been her leadership, right? So then what did this have to do with anything? _Or maybe Nithael's just doing this for her own amusement._ That seemed much more likely.

"Besides," the demon added, resting a hand on Michael's shoulder, "it's only been three days, Michael. I'm sure someone such as yourself can handle the rest. Think of this as a... very long break from your troubles and responsibilities."

Michael growled. "And I'm supposed to be _grateful_? Just how long have you been planning this, anyway?"

Nithael thought for a moment. "Hmm, let's see... how long has it been since Gabriel was cast out?"

Michael stared at her. That long? _I really_ should've _taken her more seriously!_

Nithael began to step back into the circle. "Now, if that's all—"

Michael grabbed her arm before she could leave. "Wait!"

Nithael's annoyance returned and she snatched her arm away. "For the last time, Michael, my answer is no!"

"Then at least reduce the time of my mortality!" By now, her voice was shaking and she hated herself all the more for it. "Please, Nithael."

The demon stared at her, and a smirk slowly creeped up. "What's this?" she asked, laughing. "The brave Archangel Michael _begging_? Well, Above and Below, now I've seen everything!"

Michael said nothing and waited for her to continue. At least no one was around to see this.

"Oh, alright!" she said at last. "Forty weeks."

"Forty _weeks_?" Michael echoed in disbelief.

"Take it or leave."

"What even is it with you and the number forty, anyway?"

"Funny, I could ask your side the same thing," Nithael said. "Forty days and nights on an ark, forty years in the desert... Just seemed fitting."

"Why not just make it forty days, then?"

Nithael groaned. "Michael, you should know by now that most of the things I do, I do it for my own amusement."

Did this include her punishment?

"So, forty weeks, or else I might just make your suffering much worse." The demon's voice was menacing by the time she finished speaking.

Worse. Like the length being forty years.

But forty weeks certainly sounded better compared to the current time. And at least this way, she'd only have to wait less than a year instead. Surely Heaven could do well without her until then? "Okay," Michael said reluctantly. "Forty weeks it is."

Nithael grinned. "Excellent! Now we must discuss payment."

"P-payment?" The former angel stepped away from her. Maybe contacting her had been a mistake. "But last time—"

Nithael interrupted her. "I was in a generous mood then. But you've ruined my night and will now need to make up for it." As though sensing her fear, she added, "Don't worry, it's not anything serious."

Michael relaxed only slightly. "What do you want, then?"

For a moment, the demon seemed surprised that she would even consider making a deal. "Well, I'm working on a new project and—"

"Absolutely not!" Michael took a few more steps back. She refused to get involved with any of Nithael's schemes.

"But you don't even know what I was going to say!" the demon said mockingly. "For now, all I need is some holy water."

 _Holy water?_ "Why?" Michael asked. "Do you plan to kill someone?" _Why else would a demon need the worst possible thing that could harm them?_ An image of another demon briefly flashed in her mind as she thought this. What if Hell really _was_ trying to get revenge somehow? Or perhaps they wanted to see just how Crowley had become immune to it in the first place.

"My business is my business, Michael." Nithael's tone was casual, but her eyes were narrowed, as though she were silently telling her to stop asking questions. But then she smiled sweetly and said, "You help me, and I'll reduce your sentence." She held out her hand. "So, do we have a deal?"

 _It's only holy water,_ Michael told herself. Something completely harmless to angels. _Whatever she does with it shouldn't be my concern._ Of course, there was also the last time she didn't bother to take her seriously. Which only meant that the sooner she got back home, the better.

But what if there was some sort of catch?

_Then I'll pay the price._

It was reckless and perhaps even selfish, but it would be worth it. Even she had to admit that demons had _some_ honor to them; Nithael would keep up with her end of the bargain. She _needed_ to do this. _Everything I've ever done was for Heaven._ God would understand.

 _God will understand._ Michael kept silently repeating this, and it made her feel a little sure of herself as she held her chin high and stretched out her own hand. "Deal."


	22. Chapter 22

Breakfast was awkward the next morning.

"So... how are you likin' your eggs?

"Fine, thank you."

Raziel didn't even bother mentioning to Michael that she'd barely eaten anything. Instead, she was just picking at her plate with an anxious look on her face.

 _Maybe I should've just told her the truth sooner,_ he thought. Did she even sleep at all last night?

Eventually, she pushed her plate aside. "I'm sorry, Raziel. I'm just not hungry today."

"Aw, is my cookin' that bad?" he joked, pretending to look hurt.

Michael didn't laugh and seemed to be wrapped up in her own thoughts again.

The archangel cleared his throat as he miracled the food away. "Okay, then." Clearly he didn't have much of a future as a comedian.

"I really wish you stopped doing that." Michael was looking at where the plate had been. "You shouldn't be wasting miracles like this. All it does is encourage—"

"—slothfulness. Yeah, yeah. I know." He and many other angels had received this talk before, to the point of being threatened with a reduction in wages. But what was the point of being granted so much power if you couldn't even use it for even the most mundane things?

Raziel was about to speak again, when he saw Michael flexing her hand and muttering to herself. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Hm?" Michael glanced up. "Oh, yes. Of course. I mean, our home is on the brink of falling apart _again_ —"

"Th-that's not what I—"

"—my stupid brothers are fighting—"

"Mike, really—"

"—and I can do _nothing_ about it because a demon turned me into a damn human! But yes, I'm _fine_ , Raziel. Thank you _so much_ for asking!"

"...Good to know." _Idiot!_

"Why do you ask?" Her voice was calm, as though she hadn't just been ranting about feeling useless.

Raziel reluctantly continued. "Your hand." He nodded to the one that seemed to be bothering her. "Something wrong with it? Do you want me to get Raphael? Or maybe take you to a human doctor?" Physically, the body had to only be in its late fifties at most. Humans were fragile, but he didn't think she'd be experiencing problems already.

Michael stiffened at the mention of her brother and she quickly shook her head while putting both hands under the table. "That won't be necessary," she insisted. "I simply must've slept on the wrong side, that's all."

"Uh-huh..." He didn't think she was even trying to fool him, but, not wanting to press the issue any further, he said, "Anyway, I thought we'd go over some scenarios before headin' out today. We'll start with some simple things first, of course, and then—"

"So, in other words, you wish to treat me like a newly created Angel," she said, annoyed. "Why don't you give me flight lessons while we're at it?"

Raziel offered a comforting smile. "I know you're frustrated, but—"

Michael's anger only seemed to increase. "Oh, don't act like you actually care!" she spat. After a moment, she took a deep breath and sat back down. "I'm sorry. Please, continue."

 _Maybe we should just focus on your attitude first._ But the archangel simply nodded and was about to speak, until the door opened.

"Good morning, everyone," came Aziraphale's chipper voice. At least someone had an enjoyable night.

"Morning," Raziel and Michael responded in unison, though the former seraph said so with more apathy.

Aziraphale must've noticed, because he looked at her and frowned. "Are you alright, Michael?"

"Rough night," she responded quickly before glancing at Raziel. _He doesn't need to know,_ she seemed to be saying.

The archangel silently agreed. The last thing Aziraphale needed was to get involved in even more Heavenly conflict. _Poor guy deserves a break._

"Ah." Whether the principality believed her or not, Raziel couldn't tell. "Well, I hope you feel better soon."

"I appreciate your concern, Aziraphale."

For a moment, there was an awkward silence as the principality began to walk past them. "Right, then," he said at last. "Oh, before I forget! Michael, I'm expecting a shipment of new books sometime later today. May you help me with organizing them?"

Raziel guessed Michael was remembering yesterday, because she looked annoyed at the thought of helping him in the shop again. But then she nodded and said, "Of course, Aziraphale."

The principality smiled. "Thank you."

Once Aziraphale was out of sight, Michael gave an annoyed sigh. "The nerve of him!"

Raziel didn't see anything wrong with Aziraphale asking for help, but decided not to question it. "At least he's tryin', Michael," he pointed out. "Ya know, it's exactly this kind of attitude that made you so unpopular in the first place."

He almost regretted saying such when Michael glared at him. "How dare you!"

Raziel shrugged. "Hey, I'm just tellin' it like it is." Too many times he'd heard whispers through Heaven's halls against their superiors, of how their commander was too distant and heartless, or how Gabriel was much too arrogant. They hadn't been _wrong_ , but now he really wished these had only been overreactions and nothing more.

"And remember what I said about kindness," he continued. "Bein' nice to him may just increase your reputation when you get back." He hated the idea of using Aziraphale, but whatever de-escalated the tension.

"Hmm..." Michael crossed her arms, but she didn't seem too angry. "I... suppose you have a point."

"Don't I always?" he teased, and this caused her to actually laugh this time.

"Just don't get too full of yourself," she chided lightly. "Now, what sort of scenarios did you want to go over today?"

Raziel smiled. "Well, for starters, we could—" He was quickly interrupted by his phone ringing. "Sorry," he apologized, taking out the device. He frowned when he realized it was Raguel. _What does she want now?_ he thought, irritated.

Michael looked nothing but understanding. "Go ahead and take it," she insisted. "We have the whole day."

 _Sure,_ now _she decides to be selfless._ "Thanks," Raziel said forcefully. Whatever Raguel wanted, it was best to just get it over with. He answered it as soon as he stepped outside. "Hi, Raguel."

Unfortunately for his ears, the principality of justice wasn't so cordial. "RAZIEL!"

The archangel winced and put the speaker on once he'd made sure that no one was around.

"You idiot!" she yelled from the other line. "Explain to me why you disobeyed my orders!"

Raziel hesitated for a moment, trying to gather his words. What could he possibly say that wouldn't make her even more angry? Did she even know that Haniel had technically done the same? _Or maybe she_ does _and she's just takin' it out on me._

"Raziel?"

"Y-yeah, I'm here." Clearing his throat, he began to explain. "Sorry, Raguel. But Raphael basically tricked me into tellin' him, and even if I hadn't, Haniel already—"

"Yes, yes," she said dismissively, and Raziel could almost imagine her waving her hand in such a manner. "I already know about my brother, and believe me, I shall be having a word with him as well. In fact..."

 _Oh, no._ "Please don't say it." After yesterday, he really didn't want to go back to Heaven again.

"Come on Upstairs. I can just speak with you both in my office."

And she said it! "But what about Michael?"

"Oh, it'll just be for a few minutes, I promise."

A few minutes. Sure. _I guess she'll be fine with Aziraphale,_ he told himself. _Hopefully._ "'kay," he said at last. "I'll meet you in your office in just a bit."

* * *

_I won't be long, he said. It'll just take a few minutes, he said._ It'd been about two hours or so since Raziel left for Heaven, and the only reason Michael knew this without having to constantly look at the clock was because that's how long Aziraphale's copy of _The Magic Flute_ was.

They worked in silence for the most part once the new books came in, save for the principality telling her just where to put them. _Oh yes. He's trying_ very _hard, Raziel._ Still, Michael found she was just fine with this. Less talking got the work done faster, at least.

"What's next?" Aziraphale asked after shelving some early edition of an inaccurate Bible translation.

Michael looked at the pile in her arms and scowled when she saw the next title. _Oh Lord, help me._ She never thought she'd see an actual copy of it.

"What is it?" Aziraphale asked, confused. He grabbed the book and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know Raziel had his own book."

"Unfortunately." _Sefer Raziel HaMalakh_ , or the _Book of Raziel the angel_ , was a grimoire compiled by the titular archangel in order to assist the humans after the Fall of Man, containing things such as sigils and knowledge on the spiritual laws of nature. The original texts had been written on stone tablets and had been thrown into the ocean by Michael herself just before Raziel could give the completed work to Adam, but someone must've recovered them if copies existed.

Rumors of their recovery and eventual distribution had reached her ears, but she'd hoped it'd been only that: rumors. Clearly she'd been wrong and, in hindsight, perhaps she should've suspected this sooner the moment she'd become aware of the mere existence of witches.

"I knew I should've just destroyed them myself," Michael muttered after explaining the book's origins to a curious Aziraphale. "Really, what sensible angel would just interfere with humanity like this?" _Or at all, for that matter._ "And so soon after the Expulsion, too." She still couldn't decide if Raziel had been bold or stupid or both.

Michael was surprised when she saw Aziraphale still holding the book and staring at it with tears in his eyes. She cleared her throat to get his attention. "Aziraphale? Are you alright?"

The principality quickly composed himself and nodded, blinking rapidly. "Y-yes. Sorry. Tears of joy, that's all."

Michael rolled her eyes, but part of her felt amused. _Bookshop owners._

"So Raziel interfered with humanity," Aziraphale said. For whatever reason, he appeared nervous, twiddling his fingers after shelving the book. "And he wasn't punished?"

Michael shook her head. "He was. Raziel became Heaven's scribe afterwards, but at the cost of never being allowed to become a guardian again and could only go to Earth with supervision." _Well, at least until now, as unofficial as it is._ "Not much of a punishment if you ask me, but I'm not one to question God's Word. Unlike _some_ angels."

Aziraphale frowned. "I—"

"—did what you had to do, I know!" Michael sighed, feeling dejected. There really was no use in having this argument anymore, was there? "I know."

For a moment, Michael thought he was going to say something in regards to his betrayal. Instead, he said, "Let's just focus on these last few books, alright?"

"Hmph! Fine by me." _Please come back soon, Raziel._ What could possibly be taking him so long?

But perhaps her little prayer worked, because the next thing she knew, the archangel of mysteries poofed right in front of them, nearly startling Michael into dropping the books. He was panting heavily and looked just near ready to faint.

"S-sorry for takin' so long," he said between breaths as she and Aziraphale helped him to a nearby chair after setting the books aside. Once regaining composure, he turned to his charge and said, "Er, Michael, you and I can get started on those scenarios right now if you want."

"Um, alright..." How could he focus on lessons now when he looked so unwell?

"And Aziraphale..."

The principality looked concerned and placed a hand on Raziel's shoulder. "Yes?" he asked. "What is it?"

"Your si—" He cleared his throat. "Your former co-workers, I mean. They wanna see you. And _only_ you."

Michael could see Aziraphale was struggling not to panic as he backed away.

"I'm sure it's not so bad," the archangel said. "It's only your old co-workers."

"Ones I don't even know!" he spat. "Ones who've turned me into some sort of... some sort of living witness!" The principality sighed and drew a hand down his face. "Is it really too much to ask to be left alone?"

Michael and Raziel glanced at each other. It was so easy to forget that she wasn't the only one being punished here.

_Wait..._

If Raziel expected her to be kind to him, then she might as well do this her way. "Aziraphale," Michael began just as the distressed angel had begun to pace around. "Look at it this way: you'll get the chance to confront them."

"And that helps _how_?" he asked. "I'm not you, Michael."

"Now, don't tell me you're afraid to speak to your fellow principalities." She placed her hands on his shoulders. "Listen, you hate this situation just as much as I do. Maybe even more."

"Um..."

Behind her, she heard Raziel slap his forehead and mutter something under his breath. _At least I'm doing_ something _!_ Raguel had said that fear was a powerful motivator, but so was hatred. Especially if it was _shared_ hatred.

Michael waited for Aziraphale to continue, but he neither confirmed nor denied her claim. Smiling, she added, "So then, do this for both our sakes. Let them all know how you really feel about all this. Then maybe they'll stop trying to involve you in their problems."

"Maybe?"

"What else do you really have left to lose at this point?"

Raziel coughed and Michael could've sworn he was saying, "Stop talkin'."

Fortunately, Aziraphale seemed to be taking her words into consideration. After a moment, he gave her a slight smile and they both looked at Raziel. "When do they wish to see me?"

As though in answer, a bright white light suddenly shone exactly where Aziraphale stood. The worried look immediately returned.

"I'd say just 'bout now."


	23. Chapter 23

Aziraphale half expected to be flocked by several curious and starstruck angels, but Heaven was just as vast and empty as it'd been when he thought he'd left it for good. For once, he was relieved; if there was any time he was glad for his old home's coldness and sterility, it was now.

This only lasted for a minute however, as his worries returned when his thoughts came to Crowley. Would the other principalities want to speak to him as well? Or were a few of them already at his flat? _What if they ask about the sword?_ There was no doubt in his mind that Gabriel would take the chance to tell the others where the holy weapon supposedly was as an attempt to ruin him.

"Aziraphale?" A young-looking angel with olive skin and warm brown eyes greeted him, black hair cascading just past their shoulders. "Welcome. I am Cerviel, a leader of our rank."

"Er, yes. Hello." Now that he no longer worked for Heaven, Aziraphale wasn't quite sure what was expected of him. Should he bow his head, or was that much too formal?

Cerviel laughed, presumably to ease the tension. "Please, there's no need to be nervous. You are among friends here."

Friends. Such an odd way of saying 'complete strangers'.

"What did you wish to speak to me about?" Aziraphale asked. As far as he was concerned, the sooner he finished with whatever the other principalities wished to speak to him about, the better.

Cerviel seemed almost disappointed, but their cheerful demeanor quickly returned. "Getting to the point, I see! Very well, come with me to my office."

* * *

Most angels had their swords hanging proudly somewhere in their office, but the closest thing Cerviel had to a weapon were a few slings, and a box of stones sitting on their desk. Sunlight entered from all sides of the room, and Aziraphale was amazed by how many instruments there were. A bagpipe here, a violin there... Cerviel seemed to be quite fond of the lyre the most, as there were plenty of them.

Noticing his reaction, Cerviel smiled widely, pride in their eyes. "You're impressed by my hobby, I see," they teased, pulling up a chair for Aziraphale. "Do you play?"

Aziraphale shook his head after sitting down. "Oh, no! I suppose I can carry a tune just fine, but that's it for my musical abilities. Though, I suppose it's never too late to learn." Perhaps one of these days, he could even serenade Crowley. Oh, how romantic that would be!

"I can give you lessons if you're up to it. As you can see," Cerviel added as they gestured to the lyres, "the lyre is my favorite, but you seem more like a violin kind of angel to me."

"Oh, well, I—" Aziraphale stopped himself. This wasn't the time to discuss music! Clearing his throat, he said, "Forgive me, Cerviel, but I was told you and the other principalities wished to speak with me."

Cerviel's cheeks began to brighten. "Yes, of course! Forgive _me_ for getting off track. Haniel and Raguel should be here any minute—"

A knock on the door interrupted them.

"Er, now." Loudly, they said, "It's unlocked!"

Cerviel stood, and Aziraphale joined them just as two other principalities entered the office. For just a second, they looked irritated with each other until they saw their guest.

"He's here!" one of them squealed as her eyes shined brightly, like a child excited to see what Father Christmas had brought them.

The taller one grinned and tightly hugged Aziraphale after approaching him. "How wonderful it is to meet you at last!" he exclaimed while laughing.

Aziraphale almost wished the feeling was mutual.

He was relieved when Cerviel cleared their throat. "If we may begin, please?" Quickly, he shot Aziraphale an apologetic glance.

The one who'd hugged him looked almost embarrassed. "Yes, of course." Sitting down, he said, "Welcome, Aziraphale. I'm Haniel, this—" he nodded to the other newcomer, who gave him a little wave—"is our sister Raguel, and you've already met Cerviel."

Beside him, Raguel spoke next. "Now, I'm sure you're wondering why we've called you here. We simply wish to ask you a few questions, dear."

Something about being called 'dear' made Aziraphale feel uncomfortable.

"This'll be quick," Haniel assured him. "For starters, how have you been since... well, you know?"

Did he mean the attempted executions or Michael becoming human?

"Quite well, all things considered," Aziraphale answered. "Although, I must be honest, I never expected to be here again. All Crowley and I wanted was to enjoy the rest of our lives on Earth in peace."

Almost as soon as he mentioned his demon boyfriend, Raguel's lips pursed and eyes darkening. "Ah, your... partner, correct?"

"Not that there's anything wrong with that!" Haniel added quickly while glaring at her. "Even if it _is_ a cruel, untrustworthy, spiteful—"

Cerviel covered Haniel's mouth before he could finish. "Okay! That's enough out of you!"

For a moment, Aziraphale felt a wave of gratitude towards the leader, until he saw a brief flash of disappointment in their eyes. But was that for their brother or for _him_?

 _But Cerviel seems so kind and understanding,_ he told himself. Then again, so did Gabriel for a time. Trusting anyone in Heaven now would be foolish. And yet, part of him couldn't really blame them for their disapproval, either. As far as he knew, most demons simply weren't like Crowley. _But maybe if given the chance..._

"Sorry, Aziraphale," Haniel said once Cerviel let him go, interrupting him from his thoughts. His apology seemed genuine. "Old habits die hard, I guess."

"And... I suppose Crowley is just as important to our cause as you are," Raguel added rather reluctantly. "You know, even if he _is_ supposed to be the enemy."

Aziraphale did his best not to appear upset by forcing a smile. This would all be over soon, and then he would never have to see any of these angels again after today. "Not to worry," he said. "Now, you mentioned something about a cause?"

"Oh, yes!" Haniel's excitement returned. "Which brings us to our next point. I'm sure you're already well aware of our little revolution."

"I'm aware of your little _attempt_ at one." So maybe a _slight_ jab couldn't hurt. Michael _did_ suggest he let them know how he felt about it, after all. And seeing the frustration on Haniel's and Raguel's faces as they gripped the arms of their chairs suddenly made him being here worth it.

Aziraphale continued. "I'm also aware that you've been using me to justify your actions. If I may be frank for just a moment, I'm quite disappointed."

Cerviel looked guilty. "We didn't mean to upset you," they said. "In fact, none of us ever expected for things to turn out this way."

"Well, how _did_ you think they were going to turn out?"

The three leaders all glanced at each other, and Aziraphale wasn't sure whether to feel annoyed or pity for their recklessness. They couldn't have known any of this would happen, no one could've. _And I more than anyone know what it's like to struggle with doing the right thing._ To criticize his fellow principalities for that alone would only make him look hypocritical.

Haniel sighed heavily. "Aziraphale," he began, "the revolution is exactly why we've wished to speak with you in the first place. Much as it pains me to say this, it appears to be failing."

"Oh?" _Good,_ Aziraphale thought. _Perhaps you'll think of more sensible methods to help change occur._

Raguel frowned. "Indeed. So, we were hoping if you could perhaps speak to the rest of third sphere. Just give them a boost in morale, that sort of thing. Then you're free to leave."

"And why would I do that?" he asked.

The leaders' eyes widened in surprise.

"I apologize if I seem uncaring," Aziraphale said, and he knew he meant it. "Believe you me, I fully sympathize with you three wanting things to change around here and, ideally, the seraphim are supposed to be paragons of love and justice." Remembering Gabriel, he added, "I... think we can all agree this has not been the case as of late."

Raguel and Cerviel nodded their heads sadly while Haniel lowered his gaze. No doubt they each had their own horrible experiences with the highest rank. Aziraphale almost wanted to ask for their stories, but quickly thought against it. That sort of information seemed much too personal.

"But," he continued sharply, "I also wish to make clear that I disapprove of the methods you've taken. Using my name in my absence to justify your own disobedience, having an initially bias trial... Keep fighting if you must, but if you care for my opinion at all, then I urge you three to seek more peaceful methods while also leaving my name out of it."

Aziraphale glanced at Cerviel while Haniel and Raguel looked frustrated again. "Please," he said to them. "This is my only request."

Cerviel tilted their head slightly and Aziraphale thought they'd share their co-workers' sentiments, until they smiled and nodded. "I believe your request is reasonable."

Haniel and Raguel turned their heads sharply to face them. "What!?"

"But our symbol..." Haniel added.

"We'll just get a _new_ symbol," Cerviel said, still smiling. "Aziraphale's right, Haniel. We shouldn't have gotten him involved when he had no say in anything and what we've been doing so far hasn't exactly been helping anyway. Perhaps it's time for us to really consider other _alternatives_." The slight bitterness in their tone as they glared at the other two leaders told Aziraphale they had indeed considered other methods that simply weren't being listened to.

_I know how that feels._

Haniel and Raguel glanced at each other; she seemed more upset than ever, while he slumped his shoulders in defeat.

"You can't seriously be—"

Haniel interrupted his sister by raising his hand, his eyes firmly set on Aziraphale. "I concede to your point. Raguel?"

She sighed. "I concede as well. We're sorry for causing you so much trouble, brother."

Aziraphale tensed up for a second at being called 'brother', but quickly relaxed before they could notice. They were listening to him, however reluctantly. That was all that mattered. "Quite alright. We all make mistakes."

"Excellent!" Cerviel stood, and the other principalities followed. To Haniel and Raguel, he said, "Now that that's over with, please get out of my office. I wish to speak with Aziraphale alone."

"Of course," Haniel said. "And it was lovely getting the chance to meet you at last, Aziraphale."

"And you as well, Haniel."

Cerviel opened the door for them. When Haniel and Raguel stood outside, they said, "Yes, this has indeed been lovely. And I fully expect to have a word with both of you later."

The door was shut before either of the siblings could say another word.

After a moment, they breathed a deep sigh and turned to Aziraphale, sympathy in their eyes. "So sorry about them," they said, sitting back down at their desk. "My siblings can get a little... set in their ways sometimes." Clearing their throat, they quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, I trust that Raziel and Crowley are treating you well, but what about Michael?"

After giving it some thought, he said, "Michael and I still have our differences, but we're managing just fine for the most part, I think. She's even helping me in the bookshop while we wait for her to become an angel again."

"And have you seen any changes in her?"

Aziraphale wasn't quite sure how to respond. He didn't know Michael well, so he wasn't really sure what would be considered usual for her. But then he thought back to their talk the other night and then to her defending him from her own brother. Compared to a few weeks ago, he considered these to be great improvements.

Then again, Nithael saying she had to do good deeds if she wanted more time out of the bookshop probably helped as well.

"I believe so," he said at last. "She seems to have alot of regrets, and Raziel is doing his best to help her as well."

Cerviel nodded. "Hopefully this whole ordeal will be worth something, then." Standing, they said, "I think that's enough. Thank you so much for coming."

 _Well, it's not like I had much of a choice._ Aziraphale only smiled and nodded as he shook Cerviel's hand. "But of course."

"Come, I'll see you out. Wouldn't want you to suddenly get mauled by fans, would we?" They laughed at their own joke while opening the door again, and Aziraphale nervously joined in as he followed them. _I hope Haniel and Raguel stay quiet until after I leave._

"My condolences for what you've had to go through, by the way," they said solemnly as Aziraphale walked beside them. "Not just now, but then as well. I hope you know that none of this is your fault, nor did you deserve to almost die."

Aziraphale was touched by their words. "Thank you, Cerviel. And... if it means anything, I wish we could've met under better circumstances."

There was a shine in the other principality's eyes. "As do I. Although, my offer for music lessons still stands. I can even teach Crowley if he'd be up to it."

" _You'd_ be willing to work with a demon?" Aziraphale asked, surprised.

Cerviel shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned, music knows no bounds. The other angels won't approve if I go through with it, of course—the music angels most of all, I think—but it can be our little secret."

"I wouldn't want you to get in trouble if they found out."

Cerviel clicked their tongue. "Don't worry about it. I can handle them. And it'd be nice to get away from... everything for awhile, don't you think?"

Privately, Aziraphale agreed. "I'll consider it. But how about _after_ things have settled down?"

Cerviel nodded. "Very well. I look forward to the next time we meet. And," they added, wrapping Aziraphale into a comforting hug, "I want you to know that you've made a difference the day you decided to go against orders. One that will help us all in the long run. And in the meantime, I will do my best to ensure that my siblings follow through with your wishes."

Pride swelled in Aziraphale's chest just then, for both himself and Cerviel. Perhaps he had a friend in Heaven, after all. _Today has gone much better than expected._ Who knew talking to his fellow principalities would've been so easy?

But... had it been _too_ easy? Aziraphale slowed his pace, his brow creasing. The others wouldn't really go back on their word, would they? _Oh, but they seemed so desperate._ Even if they _did_ intend to do things differently from now on, how long would those alternatives last?

"Aziraphale?"

He glanced up to see that Cerviel had walked ahead of him and was now looking at him with concern. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, quite!" _I'm simply worrying for nothing,_ he tried to assure himself. He kept silently repeating this over and over again as he and Cerviel continued to talk, and his discomfort almost completely disappeared.

And yet, at the back of his mind, he simply couldn't shake the dreadful feeling that this was far from over.


	24. Chapter 24

"Okay, so you see someone drop their wallet. What do you do?"

"Return it to them, of course."

"And what if you can't find the person?"

"Scour the area or turn it into the proper authorities."

"And what if someone else takes it and keeps it for—"

"I'll confront them and subdue them!" Michael was trying to be patient, she really was, but the simpler these scenarios got, the more her frustration and boredom grew.

Raziel paused and stared at her like she was crazy. "...So when you say 'subdue'..."

"These are only hypothetical situations, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'll _hypothetically_ subdue them."

"Very funny." Beneath his sarcasm was a hint of amusement. "Okay, but seriously, what do you do? And for this scenario, at least _try_ to think of a peaceful solution."

As useless as she found this to be, she decided to consider the best option, her mind already going through the possibilities. On one hand, she could ask the person to return the wallet through sheer politeness alone, but that would probably get her either laughed at or ignored at best and hurt at worst.

 _Peaceful solution... Hmm..._ Did religious guilt still work these days? Of course, that was assuming the person even cared for the Almighty in the first place. "Well, how about—" Michael stopped herself when she saw the door open, and in came Aziraphale, looking anxious as ever.

Raziel followed her gaze. "How'd it go?" he asked.

"Quite well, I think..." Aziraphale hesitated before continuing. "Cerviel seemed nice enough, but I'm not sure what to make of Haniel and Raguel."

But from the way his body was tensed up as he mentioned the other two leaders, the way his eyes were avoiding hers and how he was twiddling his fingers again, Michael guessed he knew _exactly_ what to make of them.

"You don't trust them, do you?"

He didn't answer her, but he didn't need to.

"You're right not to," she added, even as Raziel glared at her. "No offense, but you angels of the third sphere have so far proven yourselves to be completely unreliable."

"Ya know," Raziel said, "just because you _say_ 'no offense' doesn't make it any less offensive!"

"Do _you_ trust them?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Then I rest my case."

"I'm sure I'm just worrying for nothing," Aziraphale said, though it sounded he was trying to convince himself more than his guests. "Now, what are you two working on?"

"Testin' Michael's basic morality," Raziel said with a sigh. Apparently he was just as bored with this as she was. "Come to think of it, maybe we _should_ move on to something a little more advanced."

Aziraphale frowned. "Are you sure that's wise?"

"Don't deter him," Michael said. "What did you have in mind, Raziel?"

"Well, how 'bout the trolley problem?"

"The what?"

Aziraphale suddenly looked even more uneasy. "Please tell me you're not going to create a realistic simulation of it to help her understand."

His response was met with silence as both Michael and Raziel looked at him in confusion.

"Right, then. Carry on."

"Was he always this weird?" Raziel asked as the principality walked away.

Michael didn't think he was expecting an answer, so she simply shrugged.

"Uh, anyway, as I was sayin', it's a thought experiment. So, let's say one person is tied to one track and a group of people are on the other. Your job is to decide who to kill just as the trolley is coming to a fork."

Michael gaped at him. _Of course_ humans would come up with something so gruesome. _Still, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, right?_ "I would, albeit very reluctantly, kill the one person."

"But then what if you happen to know that one person?" Raziel asked. "Or if it's a child?"

Michael frowned, slightly annoyed with herself for not considering all the variables. _He has a point._

The archangel seemed satisfied with her reaction. "See how difficult morality is now?"

Michael nodded, and found herself getting even more irritated. This wouldn't even be a problem if a certain woman hadn't listened to a certain Serpent. "Can't I just _stop_ the trolley before it hits anyone?"

"No, because then that would ruin the entire point of the experiment."

What kind of sadistic monster even came up with such a scenario?

"There's no right answer," he said helpfully. "I think that's what makes this so interestin', if not kinda morbid."

 _Kinda?_ "So frustrating, you mean," Michael muttered, resting a hand on her cheek. "I think I'd rather go back to the basics."

Raziel gave an understanding nod and was about to speak, when his phone started to ring again. Groaning, he quickly muttered an apology and stepped outside to take it.

Michael didn't even notice Aziraphale approaching with two cups of tea until he spoke again, his eyes on the door. "I do hope Raziel will be alright. I can't even begin to imagine the amount of stress he must be feeling lately."

 _You're_ worried _about him?_ Michael thought as she took the drink in her hands. "I thought you didn't completely trust Raziel."

"Well, that doesn't mean I still can't care for his wellbeing."

Wellbeing. Michael briefly glanced down. _Speaking of..._ "How did it _really_ go? Your talk with the others, I mean." She wasn't sure what'd compelled her to ask such a question—she most certainly didn't care for the treacherous principality, that much she knew was certain—but she still felt the need to know.

Aziraphale briefly stared at her in surprise, and Michael was relieved to at least know that this was just as strange for him as it was for her. But then he took a seat beside her and frowned after taking a sip of his tea. "I _want_ to believe it went well, but the more I think back to it, the more I have my doubts."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it simply felt too easy to convince them to stop what they're currently doing," he began. "I suggested that they should find more peaceful ways to achieve their goals while also keeping my name out of it; Haniel and Raguel were hesitant at first, of course, until Cerviel agreed with me. They even promised to make sure the other two leaders followed through with my request, but..."

Michael understood. She knew Cerviel to easily be the nicest of the three leaders, but in all her years of service, she knew that one did not get to be a soldier of the Lord without experiencing a bit of cruelty every now and then. Even Aziraphale—with all his lies and betrayal—was guilty of this.

"I don't think either of them are very fond of Crowley, either."

Well, this didn't surprise her at all. "What, did you expect for every angel in Heaven to suddenly change their views on demons?" Michael briefly thought back to how warmly Nithael was received by most of the other principalities, how only Haniel of all angels seemed to be the only one in his rank who saw anything wrong with her presence.

 _Yet he did nothing to get her out,_ Michael thought bitterly, the drink only briefly calming her down. But then again, Nithael had always been a special case—somewhere between angel and demon, though her loyalties had been made clear. As far as she knew, Crowley hadn't even been assigned to become a principality prior to the Fall, so they had absolutely no reason to care for him.

Aziraphale shook his head. "Of course not. Just that..." He sighed. "I don't know, wishful thinking, I suppose? The point is, I think it's rather clear that at least Haniel and Raguel likely don't really care about me."

Michael felt a twinge of pity for him, but only a twinge. _He doesn't deserve to be used like this._

"On the bright side," he continued, "at least they don't appear to be as condescending as Gabriel. Er, no offense."

Michael was almost tempted to echo Raziel's words, but found that she wasn't offended on her brother's behalf in the slightest. "It's fine," she said, surprised at how easily the words came out. "I know Gabriel can be rather difficult at times."

"...At times. Yes."

Michael awkwardly cleared her throat. They hadn't yet talked about what happened yesterday, and she wasn't sure if she even wanted to. _But this may be my one chance to clear the air._ "Speaking of Gabriel, I'm... sorry for how he spoke to you the other day."

Aziraphale appeared grateful, but shook his head again. "Thank you, but you don't need to apologize on his behalf. Gabriel is in charge of his own actions, so if he wishes to apologize himself, he can."

"And would you forgive him if he did? For everything?"

He stayed silent as he lowered his gaze.

 _Just as well,_ Michael thought. She herself was still a bit angry with him for bringing up the Watchers in the first place.

_As if that's comparable to attempted execution!_

_Oh, stop it, you—_ Michael winced as a sharp pain shot through her hand—the one she used to shake Nithael's. "Damn it!" she cursed under her breath.

Aziraphale's head snapped up in alarm. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," came the quick reply as she rubbed her hand. "I just hurt my hand while sleeping."

It soon became clear to Michael that he didn't believe her. "May I see?" he asked.

Michael hesitated, but eventually nodded and let him take hold of her aching hand. He smiled and cupped it between his own hands, and soon enough, she felt the pain ebbing away. Her entire body suddenly felt much lighter as well, like a large burden had been lifted off her shoulders.

"There," Aziraphale said as he let go of her. "I think that should do the trick."

"Thank you," Michael said as she rubbed her wrist. "A healer now, are we?"

"Well, Raphael _was_ my primary supervisor for a time," Aziraphale said proudly. "Don't you remember?"

Michael wanted to laugh, to say that, yes, of course she remembered and that she was only teasing, but then she realized that she _couldn't_ remember. It was like there were holes in her memories. _What in God's name is going on?_ One of her duties as eldest was assigning lesser angels to one of the seraphim to be supervised, so she shouldn't have even been capable of forgetting something so important.

"Michael?"

"Yes, of course, I remember!" she replied at last, forcing a laugh while her stomach was in knots. "I was only teasing, Aziraphale."

"Hm." There was a look of concern on the angel's face, but he thankfully didn't press further. "Yes, well, we were never particularly close, but he still taught me a few things whenever I turned in my reports. Then one day, while I was in Israel, I suddenly get news that Gabriel would be the primary supervisor from now on." Frowning, he added, "Come to think of it, I'm still not entirely sure why that happened."

Michael stared at him. "You don't know?" She knew he used to be a field agent, but surely he couldn't be _this_ oblivious? She was almost certain that even _Hell_ knew the details.

"Know what?"

But then again, this _was_ Aziraphale she was talking to. "Raphael had been..." _Banished._ "...put on probation sometime after Gabriel had become an Archangel. He had objections to it and so I'd felt the need to put him in his place afterwards by sending him to Earth for a time." 'For a time' had lasted fourteen centuries by the time Gabriel ended up becoming Heaven's manager.

At the time, there hadn't been much protest except for the newly promoted Gabriel voicing his concerns over being responsible for Raphael's angels; all Michael had done was comfort him, but now she wished she'd done more to at least make the transition process easier for everyone. Was this another reason why so many resented her?

"He's back home now, though," Michael quickly assured the principality when she saw fear in his eyes. "No doubt helping Gabriel with running things in my absence." _If he hasn't been locked up again first, that is._

"So you punished him simply for having a different opinion?" he asked in disbelief.

"I punished him for daring to interrupt Gabriel's promotion ceremony!" she growled. She was aware how petty she sounded, but what else was she supposed to do? Probation seemed like the best option at the time. "You make me sound like some sort of tyrant."

"I'm sorry," Aziraphale quickly apologized. "It's just... don't you think sending him away for that was a bit much?"

"You weren't _there_ , Aziraphale," Michael hissed. "You don't know how bad it was. But even if you did, what else could I have done? Fell him?" This was getting ridiculous. It happened a long time ago and Raphael had long since forgiven her for it. So then why did she still feel so defensive?

"O-of course not." Clearing his throat, the angel said, "Speaking of... Gabriel implied that you've also frightened angels with threats of doing just that. Did... did you really?"

She had.

"It's not like I ever meant it!" Michael snapped, but no sooner had the words come out did she realize that this explanation didn't actually make things any better.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them that was quickly interrupted by the door opening.

_Oh, thank God!_

It wasn't Raziel as she'd hoped, but a customer, and Aziraphale quickly got up to greet her. "Welcome!" he said, plastering on a smile. "Please feel free to browse through whatever suits your interests."

The young woman beamed and thanked him before walking towards a few nearby shelves. Aziraphale followed, the tea apparently forgotten as he silently told Michael that their conversation was over.

_For now, at least._

And she was already beginning to dread the next one.


	25. Chapter 25

_"...I approve of the methods you've taken. Keep fighting, I urge you. This is my only request."_

"They'll never believe this. The others aren't stupid."

"Perhaps not, but they _are_ desperate."

" _You're_ desperate, you mean!"

Haniel's teeth clenched. He was tired and frustrated and, to anyone else, he probably appeared mad. But they didn't understand—not Raphael, whom he had borrowed the recording device from while the Archangel had been in a drunken stupor.

Not the massive disappointment that was Aziraphale.

And most certainly not his own sweet and simple sibling, the one who was wary of this entire plan from the start. "This is neccessary, little one."

 _"Necessary?"_ Cerviel asked with a mix of shock and anger. "Haniel, do you even hear yourself? You wish to deceive our own family! And even if this did work, all secrets come out eventually."

"And I suppose you know all about spilling secrets, right?"

He expected for Cerviel to flinch or slump into their seat, but the principality simply squared their shoulders and glared at him defiantly.

Under any other circumstances, Haniel would've been impressed.

"There's no need to be cruel, Haniel," Raguel said calmly, but there was a brief spark of anger in her eyes. "And anyway, Cerviel has a point."

"Oh, of course _you'd_ side with them!" Haniel snapped at his sister. "And weren't _you_ the one who was testing my loyalty just a few days ago? The one who wanted to keep Michael's predicament a secret from her own brothers?" _The one who scolded me just yesterday like I was some sort of recusant child._ "What happened to _that_ angel, eh?"

Raguel ignored his questions and asked one of her own. "Do you _want_ another war?"

"How can you even ask me that?" Haniel hissed, annoyed how avoidant his sister was being. Clearing his throat and folding his hands neatly on his desk, he added calmly, "Of course I don't, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Need I remind you both that Gabriel and Raphael were _fighting_ yesterday?"

"And what does that have to do with anything?" Raguel asked impatiently. "Besides, didn't Raphael already make an official statement that he attacked Gabriel first? The duel was fair."

"It was an _accident_!" Haniel reminded her. "And he also mentioned that Gabriel was the one who challenged him to a sword fight. What if something like that happens again, huh?"

"I still fail to see the correlation."

"Think about it," Haniel began. "Gabriel has proven time and again that he isn't fit for his position. It wasn't too long ago that he tried to kill Aziraphale, and now _this_? Should the revolution continue to dwindle, we'll still be stuck with a power-hungry seraph for a manager and all our efforts would have been in vain."

Raguel and Cerviel simply glanced at each other.

"You two think I'm crazy, don't you?"

"No!" Raguel said rather quickly. "No, no, no, of course not. It's just..."

Cerviel continued for her. "Raphael clearly doesn't want any more conflict, and neither does the Son. Why don't we respect their wishes and just do what Aziraphale suggested?"

Raguel nodded, but there was more of a reluctance to her. "I want justice to be served as much as you do, Haniel, but if listening to that demon-loving pansy means preventing another potential war, then so be it."

He knew they were at least partially right and perhaps he would've even fully agreed with them had it not been for yesterday's conflict. "But Gabriel—"

"Will do _nothing_ if it means upsetting his former charge," Cerviel interrupted. "Once a guardian forms a bond with their charge, they'll generally do whatever it takes to protect and please them."

"And guardian or not," Raguel added, "Gabriel wouldn't _dare_ risk upsetting _Her_."

 _Again,_ was the unspoken word. Even if God had gotten considerably less tetchy over the years, the fear of facing Her wrath never really went away for anyone.

 _Maybe they're right,_ Haniel thought. And yet, the memory of seeing his beloved Raphael facing off against his arrogant younger brother still lingered. The determined, angry looks, neither of them willing to yield until someone else interfered... He clutched onto the recorder tightly and gritted his teeth. Seeing most of the Host fighting was one thing, but it'd felt much worse when he saw the two Archangels doing the same thing.

Cerviel held his free hand, pity in their eyes. "Gabriel isn't Lucifer," they said softly. "He may be cruel and arrogant, but he's still loyal to Heaven. Something the Morningstar wasn't."

"And that makes things better?" Was the bar really that low?

"Look on the bright side," Raguel said. "At least we know he won't try to take over Heaven."

Haniel scoffed. "No, he'll just keep on making all of us miserable while being at odds with Raphael and facing no consequences whatsoever! What kind of message does _that_ send?" And just how long would it be before he actually tried to strike the other seraphim down?

"To be fair, _we_ haven't faced any real punishments, either," Cerviel said. "Our actions could've easily been seen as high treason, but the Son showed mercy upon us. I think it's obvious that He and the rest of the Trinity want to do the same with Gabriel."

"Except this isn't about mercy!" Haniel growled. Why didn't either of them get it? "This is about Gabriel needing to be held accountable for his actions!"

"Haven't we already done that?" Raguel asked. "We had that whole trial a few days ago, remember?"

"It doesn't count if he was never actually punished."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you want to do it all over _again_."

"Well, now that you mention it..."

"I was joking!" Groaning, Raguel added, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but maybe it shouldn't be our job to punish him? Let the Trinity deal with him, like we should've done in the first place."

Cerviel nodded in agreement.

Haniel's anger only continued to fester. "There was more than enough time for God to do _something_ before we decided to take matters into our own hands, and—"

Cerviel gasped, their hand on their chest. "Don't tell us you're beginning to have _doubts_!"

Raguel seemed just as appalled. "Haniel..."

The older principality quickly shook his head. "Of course not! I only meant..." He heaved a sigh after trailing off; he was getting nowhere with them. _But I don't want to be accused of blasphemy, either._ "Fine," he said at last. "I'll let the higher-ups handle things." Still holding the recorder, he added, "But I'm still hanging onto this. Just in case." To reassure them, he quickly added, "And I promise not to use it unless it's absolutely necessary."

His siblings exchanged wary glances, but they both eventually nodded.

"Very well," Cerviel said. "I just hope you know what you're doing."

* * *

Two things surprised Haniel when he entered the throne room: one was that the Son was the only Divine Presence in the room. _I guess God and the Holy Spirit are busy today,_ he thought.

But second was that Gabriel was also present, not even having the decency to bow before Her Son. _Arrogant fool!_ How was it possible that he still hadn't gotten punished?

"You wished to see me, Lord?" Haniel asked after kneeling. The angel guessed this was about whatever He had planned. But that still didn't explain why Gabriel was here.

"Yes," He answered. "Please rise, Haniel."

The principality obeyed, resisting the urge to glare at the Archangel.

"What is this about?" Gabriel asked, crossing his arms and acting as though he weren't speaking to the Son of God.

 _I know he was his guardian,_ Haniel thought, _but would a little respect really be too much to ask?_

Jesus smiled, and any irritation Haniel had felt quickly disappeared. After a moment, two large stacks of paper appeared before the two angels, each tied with thick rope. A closer look at one of them, and the principality noticed the papers were the very same ones he'd been looking at just the day before.

"I thought about what you said about there being a lack of communication, Haniel, and I believe it would be a good start if you and Gabriel worked together to—"

"No!" The word came out before Haniel could even think it through, and perhaps before he would've immediately regretted interrupted the Almighty's Son, but this felt strangely... right. Still, he was very much relieved that the Son didn't appear angry at all.

Gabriel however was glaring daggers at him.

Haniel continued, trying to ignore the Archangel. "I'm very sorry, Lord, but you can't possibly expect Gabriel and I to get along."

"I understand your concerns, Haniel," He said. "But for the good of Heaven, I urge you both to put your differences aside for now. There's been far too much tension lately, and working to go over these grievances together may just be a step in the right direction."

"Kid's got a point sunshine," Gabriel spoke at last. "I don't like this as much as you do—in fact, I bet my wings that I hate this even _more_ than you do. And I hate you and I really fricking _despise_ the fact that my brother is still somehow with you—"

Jesus cleared his throat as Haniel glared at the Archangel.

"— _but_ , for Heaven's sake, I'm willing to go through with this idea if He's the one suggesting it."

Haniel growled and turned back to the Son. "Again, you expect me to work together with the likes of _that_? I absolutely refuse!"

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "I told you he'd be stubborn," he said to his former charge.

Jesus' expression was completely unreadable. "Look at it this way, then: this task will keep you busy enough that you'll be able to get away from all the hostility."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Because both you and my former guardian here are two of the most unpopular angels in Heaven right now."

 _Ouch!_ Haniel winced at the reminder, and Gabriel recoiled, as though he'd just been slapped. _Rubbing salt to the wound, I see,_ thought the principality. Maybe Gabriel really _did_ have some influence over Him after all.

"But most of all," Jesus continued, "you both may eventually be able to set a good example to the others. And if all goes well, I'll see to it that Cerviel's council idea gets implemented."

Cerviel? _So_ that's _what this is all about!_ Haniel wanted to protest again, that this would only be a waste of time, that a council would only lead to more infighting—

But then Gabriel beat him to it. "Are you nuts? Heaven has done just fine without a council before!"

"Describe _just fine_."

"And furthermore, Your Holiness, can you even begin to imagine all the arguing?" He shuddered. " _I_ certainly can, and let me tell you, it's not pretty."

"You're just saying that because you don't want to listen to anyone!" Haniel growled.

"Not true!"

"Yes, it is! And it's exactly that sort of denial and ignorance that got us into this mess in the first place!"

Gabriel glared at him and looked ready to argue again, but he let out a groan instead and began to walk towards the doors. "I can't with this right now!"

The Son's brow creased. "Gabriel, I'm not—"

The Archangel left before He could finish.

* * *

"And then he just leaves! Who does he think he is? And on his former charge as well!" Haniel crossed his arms. "Honestly, it's a miracle he hasn't Fallen yet."

"Haniel!" Anger flashed in Raphael's eyes. "I know you're angry and I encourage venting, but I will not hear such talk in my office!"

 _Because you don't like being reminded of the Fall or because I'm speaking ill of your brother?_ Haniel forced a smile. "I'm sorry, dear, but it simply pains me so to see Gabriel behave this way."

Raphael's mouth twitched as he raised an eyebrow.

"No?"

"You're a terrible actor, you know that?" Then the Archangel laughed and kissed the top of Haniel's head. "But I'm serious. I love you, but do be mindful of what you say."

The principality smiled weakly. "Of course, Raphael."

"And anyway, I don't see why you're so angry, if you didn't want to work with him anyway."

"He disrespected the _Almighty's Son_!"

"And it seems you did as well, judging from what you've told me."

Haniel frowned. "I suppose you have a point," he grumbled. _But Gabriel was still worse._ Arrogant, cruel, spiteful Gabriel. Why had Michael even made him a seraph in the first place, when it'd been clear that he wasn't ready? Did he ever even apologize for challenging his brother? "How are you feeling, by the way?" He'd ask the question before, but he didn't think his partner was being completely honest with him. Perhaps this time, he would be.

For a moment, Raphael almost seemed surprised. "Er, fine. Why?"

"Come on, Raphael. You _know_ what I'm talking about."

"Really, I'm fine." But then he started tapping on his desk. "I mean, Heaven has been divided again, my eldest sister has been turned human and I'm pretty sure neither Uriel or Sandalphon still haven't the faintest idea of what's happened to her, and now everyone thinks that Gabriel will be the next Morningstar!" After downing a glass of wine, he added, "But other than that, I'm _fine_! Oh, Heavens, where are my manners? Would you like a drink, dear?"

Haniel stared at Raphael for the longest time. His heart clenched; this was just painful to watch, seeing his partner all frazzled like this. Hopefully his corporal form wouldn't develop an addiction by the time this was all over.

Raphael glanced at the empty glass for a second and then caressed Haniel's cheek. "I suppose now would be a good a time as any to finally have that talk, eh?"

The principality nodded wordlessly, bracing himself for the next words.

Raphael sighed deeply. "Alright, then." Poofing the drink away, he sat up a little straighter and had his hands folded in front of him, giving off a professional appearance. "I'm just going to come right out and say it," he began sternly. "This is all your fault."

Haniel thought that it was a good thing he didn't accept a drink, otherwise the glass might've shattered in his hand. "What."

"You said so yourself, you were too impulsive. And yet still, you don't seem to really regret anything."

He wasn't entirely wrong, but there was no way, Haniel was going to admit it aloud. "I'm sorry for what happened to your sister, if that means anything," he said. "And I'm sorry that your relationship with Gabriel has become so strained." This much was true, at least.

"But you're not sorry for the actions you've taken?" Raphael asked. "That pathetic excuse of a trial, for instance?"

Haniel balled up one of his hands, but quickly concealed it by placing the other on top. "It's not my fault you made for such a poor defense attorney," he said.

But Raphael didn't seem to care for his attempt at lightening the mood, his gaze hardening. "Just answer the question."

Haniel bit back a groan, and he held his chin high. "What is there to regret, except that Gabriel has yet to face his own punishment?" But then again, if what Raphael said was true, then perhaps everyone else comparing him to Lucifer was enough of one.

Raphael sighed, any ounce of professionalism gone. "Is that all you care about these days?" he hissed. "Some petty revenge scheme in the name of an angel you don't even know?"

Haniel tried not to be hurt by his partner's words, but he couldn't forget that Raphael himself was also a seraph. No matter how kind he was, he would never understand how important this was to him. _Which means this entire conversation is pointless._ "I think we're done here," he said, standing.

Slowly, he began to approach the door and found himself hoping for Raphael to stop him, but with each step he took, Haniel realized with a heavy heart that that wasn't going to happen. _Screw him, then!_

"Wait!"

Haniel's hand was already on the door knob when the healer spoke, and his anger quickly dissipated. "Yes?" he said, immediately turning around as his heart fluttered with hope.

And then that stern look of his returned. "There was a cube-like object on my desk just earlier. You wouldn't happen to know where it went, would you? I seem to just barely recall you being in here while I was drinking, so I thought I'd ask."

 _He means the recorder,_ Haniel realized. It was almost tempting to admit that he'd taken it while the healer hadn't been paying much attention, to reassure him that Gabriel's recording had been overwritten with his own. _I want your brother_ _to be_ _punished, not torn to shreds,_ he would say. He wanted to say that this was for the good of everyone.

But he didn't say any of that. Instead, a single word came out. "No."

There was immediate suspicion in Raphael's eyes. But then after a second, it was gone. "Very well, then. Carry on, darling."

Haniel growled. "Will do, _dear._ " He spat out the last word with such vitriol. Was this really what their relationship had come to?

If Raphael said anything else, the principality slammed the door behind him before he could hear it.

* * *

 _Damn Gabriel, damn Raphael, damn_ everyone _!_ These were the thoughts running through Haniel's head as he paced around his office. Fine, _maybe_ he'd taken things too far, but didn't the ends _sometimes_ justify the means? _They'll all see I was right eventually._ There _needed_ to be change, and at this point, he was perhaps the only one who could bring it.

 _When things continue to escalate, I'll blast the recording through the airwaves, and then—_ "Ow!" There was pain in his back just then, one so sharp that he had to lean against his desk to support himself. "What in the universe?"

Angels didn't usually contract ailments, not like humans did, so there couldn't possibly be anything wrong with his body. _Unless..._ Perhaps there was simply irritation in his wings, then. _I suppose it_ has _been awhile since I've preened them._ Usually, Raphael or even one of his siblings were there to help him, but he wasn't in the mood to speak to either of them right now.

"Let's just get this over with," Haniel said, sighing as he pulled up a chair to sit in front of a non-reversing mirror he miracled after turning on some music. Without assistance, this was going to take awhile.

But the moment he spread his wings, he recoiled in disgust. They were even more unruffled than what he thought they'd be, but that wasn't what unsettled him.

It was the ticks.

The very sight of them made Haniel want to gag. _There shouldn't even_ be _any bugs outside the sanctuary!_ he thought as he tried to pick through the disgusting creatures. _And how did they even get on my wings?_ This didn't make any sense.

After a moment, he miracled a large jug of holy water on his desk in hopes that it would at least irritate them into leaving. "Ticks on my wings," he grumbled as started towards the water. "Can this day get any worse?"

Then, a bite.

Haniel winced. Apparently it could. _This'll be over soon,_ he told himself as he began to reach for the water. But just as he made contact with it, there was an immediate stinging sensation in his hands. The principality hissed under his breath as he stepped back until he bumped into his chair. Upon looking down, he saw there were faint burn marks.

 _What?_ Haniel sat down, trying to process everything. What was happening to him and why? _I guess there's no use in preening, then._ No, what he had to do now was find a way to get rid of the ticks and quickly, as they seemed to be the main cause of his current misery. "But how am I going to do that when—" He broke off when he caught sight of his reflection and stared at it in absolute horror.

 _No!_ He was dreaming. _Somehow_ , he was dreaming. Or seeing things. Or maybe this was just some sort of cruel joke. Any of those options would've been much preferable than the most likely theory.

 _This isn't fair! This isn't fair at all!_ He didn't deserve this, not when there were many other angels so much worse than him.

The ticks had proven to be the least of his worries. Because there, just at the bottom of his messy wings, were feathers as black as night.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to anyone who catches the references to a certain historical figure and musical.

"Did you hear what's been happening in New Zealand? Apparently a divorced mother tried to kidnap her own daughter."

"That's nothing! I heard that a sixteen year old in Australia nearly killed his mother because she wouldn't let him be with his girlfriend. _Sixteen!_ Imagine!"

 _No doubt Hell's doing,_ Gabriel thought as he listened to the women passing him by. Normally he hated gossip, but this seemed to be of particular importance. He'd send someone to look into it, of course, or perhaps he'd even go himself and— _No! No, no, no._ He was on vacation. Granted, an unofficial one, but a vacation nonetheless. Whatever was happening in Oceania wasn't his problem.

Rarely did he shirk from his duties, but after the week he'd been having, he thought he deserved some rest and relaxation. And where better to do that than in Paris? With any luck, he'd eventually run into Uriel as well, as she'd apparently been sent to the City of Light for... whatever it was Raguel wanted her to do. Jesus or whoever was still in charge would take care of the trouble just fine, surely.

For now, he didn't have to worry about disobedient principalities or furious siblings or even which suit to wear for the day. Here, on this bench in an admittedly beautiful city, he could just work on crossword puzzles all day. That's what humans usually did to relax, right?

_Let's see... seven letter word for vanity._

"Gabriel! Fancy seeing you here."

 _Lucifer. Got it._ "What are you doing here?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the crossword book.

Satan however snatched it away from him, smiling in that usually unsettling way of his. "I could ask you the same thing, little brother. Or are you still trying to find Michael?"

Gabriel ignored the question, instead choosing to stand and take the book back before tucking it under his arm. "Just answer the question, Luce."

His brother's eyes brightened as he made a dim ball of light appear in his hand, so brief that no passerby seemed to take any notice of it. "City of Light, remember?"

"You have _power_ here?" Wasn't Belphegor the demon of France?

"Well, no, but there's just something about this place I've always felt drawn to." There was a wistful look in his eyes, something Gabriel had seen only once before.

The Archangel took a few steps back, but his Fallen brother either somehow didn't notice or didn't care. "Right..."

"Anyway," he continued, "I also have plans to see an opera later tonight, so I'm just killing time. Care to join me?"

Opera? "I didn't know you were still into that kind of thing. You know, ever since the whole Chr—"

"Yes, yes, there's no need to mention _that name_!" Satan's eye twitched, and for just a second, his voice had a low, guttural tone to it.

 _I guess someone's still not over it._ Gabriel didn't know whether to be amused or pity him. The Nilsson Incident, as it'd come to be called, had been the first and hopefully only time in which the angel had become aware that demons could in fact form attachments with their assignments, even if they were unhealthy ones.

"Anyway," Satan continued after regaining composure, "that doesn't mean I still can't enjoy the arts. And you still haven't told me why you were here."

Gabriel hesitated. What could he possibly say that wouldn't draw suspicion? _Wait, since when do I have to answer to him?_ "What I do with my time needn't be of your concern, Satan."

He pretended to look hurt again. "Oh, but my dear, can't I worry for you?"

 _Can't I worry for you?_ Gabriel shook his head when he head Raphael's voice. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thanks!"

"Hm." The demon king smirked. "Oh, I'm sure you can. Just like you were able to take care of those wayward angels, am I right?"

 _What?_ "Y-you know about that?" the angel asked. "But Raguel—"

Satan rolled his eyes. "I got rid of that silencing miracle as soon as I returned to Hell. Please do thank Raphael for me when you see him, by the way."

Another thing to hate the healer for, then. Just _great_. _What if he ends up using this to his advantage?_ "How much do you know, exactly?" Gabriel asked.

"Just that the lower spheres were so fed up with your behavior that they ended up holding a rather unfair trial." Satan laughed, putting an arm around Gabriel. "Oh, I almost wish I was there."

Gabriel glared at him. "Didn't you have your _own_ rebellion awhile ago?"

He immediately regretted his words, because the next thing he knew, Satan was smiling just a bit too widely as he gripped onto Gabriel's shoulder. "Indeed," he said, maintaining a calm voice as the Archangel winced. "And unlike you, I was able to take care of it."

 _Is that what he's calling it?_ Gabriel thought as he pushed him away. "Well, thanks for your concern, but everything's fine now. Really. So you can go away now."

But of course, he didn't, and instead laughed again. "I don't know what it is, but it's really quite amazing how even now, I can still tell when you're lying. Honestly, it's adorable that you still think you can actually get anything past me."

Heat rushed to Gabriel's cheeks. _Is he able to tell because he's a demon or am I really just that bad at lying?_ "I've really no idea what you're talking about."

To his surprise, his brother's face softened, and the smile he gave seemed genuine for once. "Come now, I know you well enough to tell when something's bothering you. And with what's happened, you look like you could use some venting."

Gabriel frowned. While it would be nice to just talk to someone without getting criticized, he also couldn't forget who was suggesting it. This was _Satan_ , for Heaven's sake! The Morningstar, the original rebel, the one who broke all their hearts by trying to overthrow the Almighty, and for what? Petty jealousy? Paranoia? Confiding in him was completely out of the question.

As though sensing his hesitation, the Devil continued. "I understand why you don't trust me, but if it makes you feel any better, then I swear not to tell anyone what has been said today. This'll just be between the two of us and _only_ us. Promise."

Though still skeptical, Gabriel slowly felt his guard being let down. For all his cruelty, he knew the Fallen angel would keep his word, and besides, what else did he have left to lose at this point? And yet... "Why?"

"I know this may be hard to believe, Gabriel, but part of me really _does_ care for you."

"You tried to kill me during the war."

"You survived, didn't you?" Beginning to walk ahead of him, Satan added, "Now come. We can speak at my home."

Seeing that he had no other choice, Gabriel followed. "You have residence here?"

"Gabriel, I have residences all over the world."

"Well, that's not unsettling at all."

* * *

Besides the vast collection of mirrors hanging on the white walls, the large house was surprisingly simple for the most part, with a few windows here and there and minimal furniture. Even the fireplace was small.

After taking a seat of the sofa, Gabriel said, "I honestly expected something more... I don't know..."

"Opulent?"

He nodded.

Satan laughed, sitting beside his brother. "You should see my Italian home. But yes, even I grow tired of extravagances every now and then. Do you even know how exhausting it is to host so many lavish parties and hold polite conversations with people you secretly want dead?"

Gabriel restrained himself from laughing—not out of humor, but at how overdramatic the demon king was being. "It must be _so hard_ being you."

Satan gave an exaggerated sigh. "At last, someone gets it. But enough about me! What seems to be troubling you?"

The hesitance returned. "You won't judge?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. Just say whatever is on your mind."

Everything from Gabriel's training told him to leave while he still could, to discorporate the evil being in front of him or even just return to Heaven.

_This is the enemy._

_He shouldn't be trusted._

_What would Michael say if she saw you here?_

But with every excuse he tried to come up with, the more he realized he didn't want to leave. _I'm already here anyway. What's the harm?_ And if a _Fallen angel_ was willing to listen to him, then what did that say about Heaven?

"It's okay, Gabriel," Satan said comfortingly, and there was pity in his blue eyes. "Just take your time, sunshine."

 _Sunshine._ The term of endearment he'd adopted for his own, however passive-aggressive it'd become for both of them over time. They still had something in common, at least. And even besides that, this was still his brother, one who was taking the time to hear his side of things. How pathetic it was that Michael and Raphael couldn't have done the same, and there was no telling just whose side Uriel and Sandalphon would be on if he decided to talk to either of them about it.

This was his only chance to speak freely, so why not take it?

"My reputation has been ruined!" Gabriel finally blurted out. "I spent so long trying to prove to everyone that I can be just as brave and cunning as Michael and Raphael and Uriel, and now everyone has turned against me because of _one stupid principality_!" Images of both Aziraphale and Haniel flashed in his mind, and he never felt more furious. "Speaking of, let me tell you all about our brother's lover..."

On and on Gabriel went, speaking out against all the angels who'd given him problems as of late—Aziraphale, Haniel, Raphael, Raziel... even Michael to an extent. The Fallen angel stayed silent all throughout, only listening and nodding his head in acknowledgement on occasion.

That is, until Gabriel mentioned Jesus' attempts of maintaining order to the point of wishing to implement a council. "I know He's your boy," the Devil said with a sneer, "but I'm sure even _you_ must admit that such methods can only work so well for so long. Trust me, I know from experience."

Gabriel was too tired to argue. "I just feel like everyone is overreacting, you know?"

"I fully agree with you, dear," Satan said, rubbing his back. "Azrel—"

"Aziraphale."

"—and Crowley delayed what'd been planned for centuries and needed to be punished accordingly. And with the angel, it was either Hellfire or a Fall, right?"

He understood! But then, of course he would.

"Y-yeah," Gabriel stammered, and he was glad that it was just the two of them. "And maybe... maybe it was cruel, but the others have been acting like I'm some sort of monster!" Glancing downward, he added, "Even Mary has turned against me."

"The Virgin?"

Gabriel looked at his brother again and nodded sadly, tears stinging his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Shame on him for caring so much of what a mere human thought. "And you want to know what the worst part is? They've all been comparing me to _you_." Never to his face of course, the cowards, but he knew that even his own rank had lost faith in him.

"They're _what_?" Satan growled, his eyes briefly turning red. "That's ridiculous! At least when I did it, I was joking."

"I know, right?" It simply wasn't fair. He'd done his best to be an obedient angel, a good leader, and this was the thanks he got? God would've approved of his actions, surely? _But God isn't here._ No, She just dissapeared to who-knows-where, abandoning Her children to fend for themselves. So it didn't matter what She thought.

It didn't matter what _anyone_ thought. He'd only done what he believed was right.

"From what you've told me," Satan said, "it seems like they're no better themselves. Bloody hypocrites, all of them!" Then he kissed his cheeks, something he used to do when he'd still been an angel. "You've done _absolutely nothing_ wrong, sunshine. I hope you know that."

He _did_ know that. _But God, does it feel good hear someone say it!_ Gabriel felt his eyes getting wet again, and for the first time since Mary's death, he let the tears fall.

"Oh, little one!" Satan pulled Gabriel closer to him, allowing the angel to cry on his shoulder. "There, there. Just let it all out. You can just pay for my dry cleaning later."

"What?"

"Nothing!"

* * *

He didn't know how long he'd been crying, but Gabriel found himself feeling much better all the same afterwards. "Thanks for listening," he told his brother, standing up.

Satan stood and hugged him. "Oh no, Gabriel. Thank _you_." There was something in the way he said the last word that almost made the Archangel uncomfortable, but it was quickly followed by, "For confiding in me, I mean. I know how hard it can be for you to talk about your feelings."

Gabriel smiled as his brother let him go, feeling slightly embarrassed. Even now, he knew him so well. Perhaps spending time with him hadn't been so bad after all. _I should probably be getting back, though._ Glancing at a nearby window, his eyes widened when he saw the sky beginning to turn pink. He must've been here for _hours_! "Oh jeez, I need to go!"

Satan frowned. "Oh, already? I was hoping we could go to the opera together."

"Yeah, sorry," Gabriel said, scratching the back of his neck. "Raphael is probably worried sick about me, and besides, I'm not even properly dressed for—" A very slight tingling feeling washed over his body just then, and he looked down at his own clothes to see he was now wearing a white tuxedo and matching gloves. "Uh..."

"Now you are!" his brother said cheerfully, switching from his everyday casual attire to wearing a black tuxedo with white gloves. "And I refuse to take no for an answer!" he added jokingly.

At least, Gabriel _hoped_ he was joking.

 _I guess I_ am _already dressed._ And he had nothing better to do anyway, so why not? "Okay, then. Lead the way."


	27. Chapter 27

October was the busiest month for Hell, what with the quick approach of Halloween and many humans being reckless enough to try and contact the dead or demons or both. Then of course there were the preperations and the meetings and the paperwork... So. Much. Paperwork.

And yet, all of this would've _still_ been preferable to checking up on Michael's attempts—or lack thereof—at being good.

 _You laid out the rules, Nithael,_ the demon thought to herself as she tapped her notepad. _Now you must face the consequences._ Leaning against the bookshop, she asked, "So let me get this straight: you mean to tell me that besides helping out in the bookshop on occasion, you two have essentially gotten nothing done since we've last spoken?"

"That's not true at all!" Michael said defensively.

Raziel nodded. "Like I said, I've been givin' Michael here plenty of lessons on how to be good before we can put what she learned into practice."

Nithael frowned and raised an eyebrow. _They're jesting. They're jesting, right?_ Did he truly believe that was enough?

"I don't like it, either," Michael quickly added, as though that somehow made things better. "But Raziel insisted, and surely this has to count for something?" She smiled nervously, and there was a pleading look in her eyes.

Nithael glanced down at her notepad and pretended to look over it. Seeing Michael beg once was hilarious enough, but more than that was just sad. "You realize how pathetic this is, right?" she finally responded when she looked at Michael and Raziel, whose faces fell. "And for someone who so clearly prides herself in being Her servant, I think I may actually be disappointed in you most of all, Michael."

"It's not her fault!" Raziel snapped, and Michael didn't seem all that impressed that he was defending her.

 _Guardians,_ Nithael thought as she rolled her eyes. After the failed Apocalypse, she didn't think Heaven was even willing to continue with the program. "Well, you're partially right about one thing, Raziel. For the most part, it's _yours_."

The archangel seemed to be restraining the urge to attack her.

"Now, if we're done here—"

"There was this one other thing!" Michael blurted out.

"Mike, what are you doin'?" Raziel asked, concerned.

The human ignored him. "Sometime the previous month, the other principalities wanted to speak with Aziraphale. He got irritated with the request, so I comforted him and suggested that he tell them how he felt."

Nithael looked at Raziel for confirmation, and he nodded, though that worried look of his never left his face.

 _Is he worried I'll tell someone about this?_ Nithael wondered. If he was, even the very thought was ridiculous. She had other things to focus on, so whatever was going on in Heaven no longer mattered to her. They could all destroy themselves for all she cared. "Hmm..." The demon tapped her notepad again, considering Michael's words. It certainly wasn't much, but then again, this was meant to be based on action.

"Well?" Michael asked.

"I... suppose this is fine," Nithael said reluctantly as she wrote the information down. "For now, at least. But know that I expect more from you next time, commander."

"Of course, Nithael!" came the reply with forced enthusiasm.

From behind Michael, Raziel crossed his arms and was glaring at Nithael with undisguised hatred. _Look what you've done,_ he seemed to be saying.

 _You think I_ wanted _this to happen?_ Part of her almost wanted to remove the time limit, but she quickly shook the thought away. Doing so would put a damper on things and she didn't need to let them think she'd gone soft. "Well, now I really think we're done here today. Remember, two hours outside and I shall see you both next month."

She held out her hand, but neither of them shook it. Instead, Michael took a few steps back and opened the shop's door, and Raziel followed her inside in silence.

* * *

Nithael didn't want to return to Hell just yet. She _couldn't_. In the weeks since Michael had given her the holy water, the six vials still sat securely in her office, just waiting to be used. If only she could just figure out _how_ to use them. And though he never gave her a specific deadline, something told her that Satan would be expecting some sort of progress to be made by the end of the year at most, or else.

Her stomach clenched at the memory of their last meeting. What had she been thinking, believing she could turn a demon human and then telling her master about it? Did he even believe she could actually do it, or was he simply toying with her and was actually plotting on killing her when he finally grew bored?

Suddenly working on Belphegor's many procrastination assignments didn't seem like a bad idea after all.

 _I have to get_ something _done!_ she thought as she walked through the bustling streets of London. Nithael considered herself to be an intelligent demon, but in this, she cursed herself for lack of foresight. To make matters worse, it seemed like no matter what she did, everytime she came into contact with the water, she'd suffer burns that would last for days. At least with the other one, she'd been working with her natural element.

 _I suppose I could get an assistant in case things go wrong._ She already didn't like any of her options; any angel would no doubt attack her on sight regardless of any renewed truce, the water demons were all much too loyal to Beelzebub and Leviathan to keep secrets from either of them, Raziel didn't seem like he'd be willing to leave Michael's side long enough for her to help again, and enlisting the aid of an actual human would simply draw too much unwanted attention.

 _I'm doomed!_ Was it too late to seek penance?

Nithael shook her head, trying to rid herself of such negativity. _With that attitude, you are!_ she scolded herself. She had to focus on her goal. _I've never quit anything before and I'm not going to start now!_ And, with any luck, maybe Satan wouldn't even remember their talk. With renewed confidence, Nithael smiled to herself and straightened her back with her head held high. _I can do this!_

An assistant would still be nice to have, though. After all, she'd need to have _someone_ to blame in case things went wrong. _But where can I possibly find one both willing and secretive enough to help me?_ She pondered this as she kept walking, until the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood as she caught whiff of a vaguely familiar scent—one that didn't belong to either demon nor angel, but it didn't appear human either.

Nithael stopped and narrowed her eyes as she scanned the crowd of Londoners going on about their day, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. _Where are you?_ She was so focused on the seeing what was in front of her that she didn't even notice someone bumping into her from behind. "Watch it!" she snapped, whirling to face the person.

But then her anger dissipated when she saw his aura—it was strangely dim, almost gray, but she recognized it immediately. "Haniel?"

The tall principality wore a brown trenchcoat and matching fedora, and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw her, just like that day in the courtroom. "N-Nithael! Sorry, I didn't see you there."

Nithael slightly tilted her head. Was that any way to greet the one who'd brought done the strongest angel in Heaven? Or had her deed been forgotten so quickly? "Not to worry, Haniel," she said through clenched teeth. Looking him over, she smirked and added, "You know Halloween isn't for a few more weeks, right?"

But there was no sharp retort from him, no defense or even a sarcastic laugh. Instead, her eldest brother had a distant look in his eyes, and it soon became apparent that he likely didn't even hear her.

"Haniel!" she growled, not caring who heard or saw. Didn't she deserve at least a _smidge_ of fear or anger from him after what she'd done? "I'm still speaking to you!"

Haniel shook his head, his attention on her again. "Sorry. Again. It's... it's been a rough few weeks." Then he scowled and crossed his arms, as though remembering what she'd done. "No thanks to you, by the way!"

 _That's more like it!_ "Don't blame this all on me, dear," Nithael said while smiling. "I don't believe _I_ was the one who—"

"Yes, yes, I've heard it all before!" he growled, waving his hand. "The Metatron, the other ranks... Even _Raphael_ blames me and probably even believes that I had something to do with Michael's... whatever you want to call it."

"Mortalization?"

"Sure, let's go with that! Point is, _sister_ ," he hissed while poking her chest, "I've already been constantly reminded of my failures, so the last thing I need is for a treacherous wretch such as yourself doing the same! Am I understood, _dear_?"

Nithael took a step back and stared at him. _And I thought_ God _was tetchy._ His words did little to rattle her however and she was about to say such, until that strange smell hit her nose again. And this time, it was stronger, which she found even stranger because what other supernatural creature was nearby except...

 _Oh, Satan no._ Now she knew why it seemed so familiar. "Haniel," Nithael began slowly as her brow creased, "when was the last time you preened your wings?"

* * *

They traveled to a small house he owned somewhere in Italy, and Nithael was immediately pushed inside. "Hey!"

"Hush!"

"Any reason why we couldn't just talk in England?"

Haniel didn't even look at her until after the door was locked and the curtains closed. "I feel a lot more comfortable discussing things here," he said, but it was in a way that he somehow managed to have sound condescending. "Let's get to the point, shall we? What do you know?"

She briefly glanced at the space where his wings would be. "I know that your aura has changed," she said. "And you smell a little differently, too."

"What else?"

"That's all I know."

"Liar."

"I don't know anything else!" she growled before gesturing to him. " _You're_ the one who's being weird!"

Haniel raised an eyebrow. "Why did you ask me if I've preened recently, then? Nithael, if you know something, _please_ tell me."

 _Again with the begging?_ It wasn't a good look on Haniel, either. "I... have a theory," the demon said at last. And for his sake, she actually hoped she was wrong. "But I think you already know what I'm going to say. Don't you?"

Seconds ticked by without Haniel saying anything as they stared at each other in complete and utter silence. And then, with a heavy sigh, a pair of messy angel wings soon appeared. They were just as Nithael thought they'd look like—infested with ticks and a few black feathers at the bottom.

Thank _someone_ that it was only at the bottom.

"Let me help with that," she said, rushing over with a ball of Hellfire in her hand.

Haniel took a step back, his eyes wild with fear. "W-what are you doing?"

"Do you want the ticks gone or not?"

"Of course, but—"

"Then stay still." With a reassuring smile, she added, "This won't hurt. I promise."

The skepticism slowly fading, Haniel nodded and sucked in a breath.

Nithael knelt down and one by one, she suffocated the arachnids with the fire's smoke; some dropped into a bucket she made appear while others needed to be pulled out with tweezers. The entire time, she made sure to take great care of her brother's wings. Not even Satan himself would dare bring harm to such important and delicate assets.

"There," Nithael said once she was finished, and she stepped back to admire her work. She'd even taken the time to preen the wings while she was at it, and they looked almost as clean as a demon's. "Make sure to slather some oil on them as soon as you can."

Haniel glanced at his wings before tucking them back in. "Oil. Yes. Erm, thank you for your... assistance, by the way."

 _Assistance. I wonder..._ "Think nothing of it!" Nithael said cheerfully.

Sitting down on a nearby chair, Haniel asked, "How did you know what to do?"

"Demons tend to get them if we don't preen our wings at least every six months," Nithael explained after joining him. "Why do you think ours are always so pretty and elegant?"

Haniel laughed. "Yes, I suppose that makes sense now."

"I'm surprised Heaven doesn't do the same."

"We do," he told her. "Just not as often as we'd like, what with everything that's happened since..." He trailed off when he looked at her with a frown. Clearing his throat, he added, "Well, anyway, there's never been any consequences for not preening on a consistent basis."

"Until now," Nithael pointed out. "But now that that's over with, I really think we should talk about, as the humans say, the elephant in the room. How did this happen?"

"I don't know."

Nithael simply raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.

"Really, I don't!"

The most annoying part was that he actually seemed genuine. Why did angels have to be so oblivious? "Okay, well, your wings are still mostly white, which means they've only started to darken recently."

His teeth gritted, and she could tell he knew where she was going with this. "What I've done has been—"

"—neccessary?" Nithael laughed. "What, did you think Lucifer and us rebels didn't think similarly? Or Samyaza and his Watchers? At least _you_ still have a chance."

"I still don't see why you even care."

Her jaw clenched. "Because contrary to what you angels may believe, most demons aren't looking forward to these kinds of things! Two are enough, thank you very much!" The Second Fall had been especially emotionally draining for everyone the first few months after it'd happened; Hell didn't need to go through that kind of grief again. "Be grateful that yours is a _process_ , Haniel."

"And yours wasn't?" the principality asked. "You didn't seem too surprised that only a few feathers were black."

Nithael shook her head, slightly confused. Why would he think that? "As far as I know, for the rebels and most of the Watchers, it was immediate."

_"Most?"_

He didn't know? "Yes, with Azazel? Didn't he Fall for exchanging letters with Satan?"

Haniel jumped out of his seat. "He did _what_?"

 _Oops._ Well, the cat was out of the bag now. "I thought you all knew," she said. "Why did you think he Fell?"

"For teaching humans about weaponry and cosmetics."

Nithael stifled a laugh. "Why cosmetics?"

"I don't know, ask God or Ra—" Haniel stopped himself and let out a gasp. "Raphael knew." His voice was so low that Nithael barely heard him.

"Huh?"

"Raphael knew!" he repeated more fiercely. "He was there when Azazel Fell, he _had_ to have known! But why keep this a secret?"

Nithael simply watched in silence as Haniel paced around and almost felt pity for him. He just seemed so hurt and confused and... _vulnerable_. "Well, this has been lovely," the demon began to say as she stood, "but I really must be going now and—"

"I need you to get me those letters."

Nithael winced. "I was afraid you would say that," she muttered. "Why?"

"You said this has happened before, right? Maybe whatever's in them could help me."

Nithael threw her head back and groaned. "You're the worst brother ever, you know that?" Looking at him again, she added, "You _do_ realize you're practically asking me to go on a suicide mission, right? Any correspondence to Satan gets filed away by Dagon, and that's assuming he even still kept the ones between him and Ligur!"

But Haniel wasn't relenting. "Please, Nithael! I need to know more about this, how much time I have left."

"That's not my problem!" she hissed. "Don't you realize that would only make things worse for both of us? Just be an obedient angel and I'm sure you'll be fine."

"But—"

"No! I will hear no more of this!" Stomping away towards the door, she said, "Goodbye, Haniel!" _And three, two, one..._

The principality reached the door first, blocking her way. "Please! Much as I hate the very idea of it, you're probably my only hope here." Reluctantly, he added, "And, in exchange, I'll do anything you ask of me. It's the least I can do for what you've done for me today."

Nithael pretended to think it over for a few seconds, taking joy in Haniel's agitation as the seconds passed. Then, she slowly grinned. _"Anything?"_


	28. Chapter 28

"What in the world was _that_?"

"Not now, Raziel."

"You can't just—"

"I _said_. Not. Now. Raziel."

Michael ignored a few curious customers as she went to the back room, with Raziel trailing close behind her, just as he usually did. Before, part of her had found it endearing, but now she couldn't care less for it.

"Michael." He touched her shoulder, which caused her to immediately jerk and whirl around to finally face him, slapping his hand away.

"Don't _Michael_ me!" she snapped as he recoiled. "Nithael had a point, you know. What we've been doing so far has only been a waste of time."

"A waste of time?" Raziel echoed. "You realize that this is what squabs are taught, right?"

"Which is _precisely_ my point!" Sighing, she added, "I know you care, Raziel, but perhaps that is where the problem lies. You care _too much_ , and—"

"And that's suddenly a bad thing?" he asked, a challenge in his voice. "I'm your _guardian_ for Heaven's sake!"

" _Unofficial_ guardian."

 _"Regardless,"_ he continued sharply, "you told Nithael about comforting Aziraphale. She now knows that there's still conflict in Heaven, so what if she ends up using this to her advantage?"

Now he was just being ridiculous. So much so, that Michael couldn't help laughing. "Because Hell will care for what a few principalities have to say, right? Besides, it's not like I told her _what_ they had discussed." Raziel was worrying for nothing.

But the archangel wasn't amused. "Did you forget that three of those _few principalities_ ended up basically overthrowin' you and three other seraphim?"

 _Must he phrase it that way?_ "I haven't forgotten!" Michael said sternly. It seemed she was forgetting alot of things lately, but she hadn't forgotten about _that_.

"Then why the recklessness?"

_"Recklessness?"_

Raziel briefly glanced downward. "I'm sorry," he said. "But you always said during trainin' that we can't trust demons, that anythin' we say to 'em could be used against us somehow. I just want you to be careful."

Michael smiled, hoping a facade of gentleness would be enough to mask the irritation still churning inside her. "I appreciate your concern, Raziel, and I admire how seriously you've taken your duty, but in case _you've_ forgotten, I too was a guardian angel myself once. _You_ however haven't been one since the days of Adam and Eve, which probably explains a few things now that I think about it."

"Your point?" he asked begrudgingly.

"My point, dear, is that if you keep this up, then perhaps you should just stick to transcribing Her Word and interrogating the disobedient, as are your _true_ duties since you clearly have no idea what you're doing." Michael wasn't trying to be cruel, but if putting him in his place helped bring him down a few pegs, then so be it.

Raziel huffed. "Well, _excuse me_ for only tryin' to help!"

"Something that would be better appreciated if we could actually put your lessons into practice. Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do," he replied. He sounded sincere, so then why did it feel forced? There was a pause, and then he said, "Maybe we _should_ try somethin' different this time. 'Course, we'll need to curb your temper first, and then—"

"Raziel!" Did he believe her to be incompetent?

"Fine, fine!" Sighing, he added, "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

"So she's getting restless?"

"Unfortunately."

Cerviel shook his head and drummed their fingers on the break room's sofa. "If what you're telling me is true, then I can't really blame her. Aren't you also tired after going through the same routine for a month?"

"Traitor," Raziel said through laughter. "But fine. I... _guess_ you have a point."

"You're just as stubborn as she is, you know that?" There was affection in the principality's eyes as they said this. "Tell me, has Michael ever expressed feelings of uselessness?"

Raziel hesitated. It wasn't that he didn't trust Cerviel, but how much more should he really tell them? Should he even be venting about her at all? _Her reputation has suffered enough._

Cerviel smiled and placed a hand over his. "I won't tell Haniel and Raguel, if that's what you're worried about."

Raziel winced at the mention of the second oldest principality. _"Since you can't keep your mouth shut,"_ she had said the day he was called Upstairs, _"there's something I want you to do for me."_ That _something_ had been being tasked with reporting on practically every little thing Michael said or did at least every other day. _Because Nithael wasn't enough!_ Even _official_ guardians weren't given such demands.

Cerviel's voice brought him back to reality. "I'm getting better at keeping secrets!" they insisted.

The archangel forced a laugh. "Well, now I feel reassured." They hadn't been present when Raguel had spoken to both him and Haniel that day, hadn't heard the harsh reprimands he'd been given until he finally agreed. _I don't wanna burden them with this._ Heaven didn't need any more conflict, and besides, surely this couldn't last?

Cerviel playfully pushed him. "Okay, fine. Don't tell me if you're uncomfortable with it. But my point is, if Michael _is_ feeling like this, maybe you should try to think of some things that'll make her feel useful."

"What, helpin' out at the bookshop ain't enough?"

"Besides that, I mean." They gasped almost immediately afterwards, eyes sparkling. "How about having her volunteer at a house of worship? That way, she can also be a little closer to home. And what better way to prove her goodness than serving in the name of the Lord?"

"I... really don't think Nithael will care for that sort of thing," Raziel said doubtfully. "But I'll be sure to consider it." He appreciated the suggestion, at least. "But enough about this. How goes tryin' to bring back the paper?"

A single avoidant glance told Raziel everything he needed to know.

The archangel gave a deep sigh to break the silence. What had he done to deserve this?

"I'm sure this is only temporary," Cerviel said. "Things are still a little tense here, after all. Just give it time."

"Temporary. Right." Times like these, he wished he had Cerviel's optimism. Briefly glancing at his phone, he added while standing, "Well, it's gettin' late, so I think I better get goin'. Thanks for, uh... letting me vent." The more he thought about it, the guiltier he began to feel, dumping his problems on his friend like this. "Hope I didn't come off as too much of a jerk."

"Don't worry about it," Cerviel said. But were they being sincere or just trying to be nice? "God willing, hopefully things for both you and the rest of Heaven will get better soon."

"Hm. Hopefully."

"Now come. I'll see you out."

Raziel smiled gratefully and followed them out the door before walking beside them.

"Oh, by the way," the principality began, "you haven't seen Haniel, have you?"

"Not since last month," Raziel said, confused. "Why?"

There was a rare look of annoyance of their face. "Because I haven't seen him since then, either, and Raguel is being just a bit too bossy if you ask me!"

"Don't I know it." Realizing what he'd just said, Raziel shook his head and continued. "Sorry! I know she's your sister, but sometimes—"

"It's fine." Cerviel genuinely didn't seem all too bothered by it. "I'm aware of how... controversial my siblings have become lately, Haniel especially. At least _some_ of it is within reason, I think. Anyway, if you _do_ see him, please let him know that simply leaving a note on his door that says he'll be on Earth without his phone for an unspecified amount of time while we're all still trying to figure things out is quite cowardly of him."

"Uh, sure...?" Had things really gotten so bad for the so-called leader of the revolution that he'd felt the need to flee?

Noticing his discomfort, Cerviel said, "Well, now _I'm_ sorry."

"That bad, huh?"

They sighed. "Well, my rank is being accused of being in on Nithael's plan, so that's always fun."

"Jesus Christ."

"Oh, He's doing His best to keep us united."

Raziel stood in front of them and placed both hands on their shoulders. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" they said cheerfully. "Nothing I can't handle. This'll all be over soon." It sounded they were trying to convince themself more than him. Shaking the archangel off, they added, "Don't worry about me."

"Hm." Raziel frowned. "If you're sure."

The smile they wore never left their lips as they nodded wordlessly and kept on walking.

 _I wish there was something I could do,_ Raziel thought as he walked beside them again. Cerviel didn't deserve to be so stressed. "Hey, if you want—"

"There you are!"

Raziel followed Cerviel's gaze in time to see them running towards Haniel, who was too busy having his nose buried in a scroll to look at his sibling. "Hi, Cerviel," he said just as he began to walk past them.

Cerviel's face fell. " _Hi Cerviel?_ Is that all you really have to say? I haven't seen you in a month!"

Finally, he stopped to look at them and rolled up his reading material. "I could've sworn I left a note saying I'd be on Earth. And besides, it's not like that's the longest we've gone without seeing each other."

"That's not the point!"

As Cerviel continued their scolding, Raziel's attention was on their disinterested brother. Something about him seemed off, but how or why was a complete mystery to the archangel. _His aura and_ _scent_ _are the same as they'd always been, but why do they feel so strange?_

Haniel must've noticed his suspicion, because he looked past Cerviel and towards him not long after. "Hello there, Raziel," he said in a voice that just seemed a bit too warm. "Is Michael still alive?"

What kind of question was that?

The oldest principality laughed. "Just teasing! But really, how is she?"

"Fine..." Raziel answered cautiously.

"Excellent! I eagerly await her return."

_I'm sure you do._

"And Cerviel," he added, turning back to him sibling and giving his scroll a little wave, "I'm a bit busy at the moment, dear. Do you mind if we continue this conversation later?"

Their mouth twitched. "O-of course not."

"Thank you. And..." He paused for a second before continuing, seeming more genuine than before. "I'll explain everything as soon as I'm able to. I promise."

Cerviel still seemed upset, but nodded anyway. "Okay."

He smiled at his sibling, eyes glittering with affection before kissing the top of their head. After nodding to Raziel, he unrolled his scroll again and walked away without saying another word.

The two angels watched him leave, and after a few seconds of silence, Cerviel voiced exactly what Raziel had been thinking. "Is it just me, or does he seem... _different_ somehow?"


	29. Chapter 29

_"Everything concerning this production of_ Faust _was simply divine. By which I mean, even death would've been better than sitting through another minute of whatever it was I'd just seen. For one thing, the set was entirely unoriginal, and I'm quite certain a donkey would be able to sing better than most of the performers on stage._

_The actress playing Marguerite however was an absolute delight. As I understand it, this is the debut of Mademoiselle Madeline Leroux. Keep it up, mon cher. You may just end up becoming as famous as Florence Foster Jenkins herself one day."_

That was when Gabriel had to stop reading. "Good God, you're harsh," he said, staring at his brother. As far as he was concerned, the opera hadn't even been that bad, but he'd never been as critical towards music as Satan was anyway.

Satan himself however didn't seem all too bothered by the comment. "Comes with the territory," he said, taking back the newspaper.

"But aren't you supposed to be the representative of Pride?"

"Doesn't mean I can't shake things up a bit every now and then, right?" He then laughed. "And think about it this way, at least some of the humans will only wish to try harder the more criticisms they receive, therefore inflating their ego and leading them straight to me."

Gabriel nervously joined in the laughter. Over the past month, he'd found it surprisingly enjoyable to be spending time with the one who was supposed to be his enemy, but then there were times where the angel was reminded exactly _why_ he was the enemy.

 _Looks like we have something in common after all, Aziraphale,_ he'd thought bitterly after accepting the Fallen angel's offer to stay with him for as long as he needed to. Gabriel was no fool—he knew he was treading on very dangerous ground, that the chances of him being used were extremely high and that he could literally be stabbed in the back at any moment.

 _So I just need to be ready for when that inevitably_ does _happen._ Just because Aziraphale had let _his_ training go to waste didn't mean _he_ had to. And at least until he'd gotten word of Heaven returning back to normal, he would put his stay to good use and gather whatever information he could.

If only such a thing was easy.

"Hell's pretty busy this time of year, isn't it?" Gabriel asked. "Shouldn't you be getting back?"

"Shouldn't _you_?" Satan retorted. "I'm sure you're _very_ missed."

 _Not very likely._ Not even Raphael had sent him a message since he left, and Satan knew this.

"But then again," his brother continued, "didn't you _want_ to get away from the mess? You're better off without them, if you ask me."

"And you're happy about that, aren't you?"

Satan grinned. "But of course I am. Why, with you so estranged from the others and Michael having become mortal, it'll be much easier to forego with the rest of my plans to eventually take over Heaven without having to wait for another Armageddon."

Gabriel stared at him, causing the Fallen angel to laugh again.

"I'm _joking_ , sunshine!" Satan patted his head. "No need to take things so _seriously_ all the time."

"I think you and I have _very_ different definitions on what constitutes as a _joke_."

He shrugged. "Ah, well, humor is subjective anyway. And call me selfish, but I _am_ glad for what's happened to you, if only so we can finally have some time to ourselves without any responsibilities."

Against his better judgement, Gabriel privately agreed. Before now, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd been off-duty.

"As for your _other_ question," Satan continued with disdain, "I technically have until the end of the month to get back to work, so I may as well enjoy myself until then."

Gabriel felt a very slight twinge of envy just then; he didn't have the luxury to take a break whenever he wanted. _Until now._ He could already imagine the harsh scolding he'd receive when he finally returned.

"'Tis truly a shame you don't know what it's _really_ like to be in charge," his brother said with pity.

"What do you mean?" Had he been on Earth for so long that Satan had forgotten what his job was?

"I _mean_ being able to make your own rules and follow your own schedule. At the end of the day, you still listen to Michael and the Trinity, don't you?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"Then you're only little more than a figurehead." Noticing Gabriel's growing frustration, Satan quickly added, "Oh, don't be like that, sweetling. But tell me, did you ever even _want_ to become manager? Otherwise, it seems like Michael has been making you do her work _for_ her."

Gabriel immediately opened his mouth to argue, ready to defend both himself and his sister, but the more he thought about it, the longer the silence lingered. "...No," he said at least. "It took me awhile to get used to it, actually."

Satan nodded. "Just as I thought. Now, did our _dear sister_ even ask you if you wanted the position, or at least helped you until you could handle things on your own? Or did she just dump everything on you without a second thought?"

Gabriel growled, feeling defensive again. "If you're trying to turn me against her—"

"Oh, no, Gabriel!" Instead of being offended, the demon looked amused. "But do forgive me for only being concerned for you and your wellbeing. Do not blame me if Michael was being selfish when she made her decision."

"Michael stepped back from her duties to focus on the _army_!"

Satan scoffed. "Is _that_ what we're calling it?"

"Well, what other explanation could there be?" _Be calm,_ Gabriel told himself. _You'll only be encouraging him if you keep getting angry._

His brother didn't answer, and a moment later, a single piece of paper appeared in his hand. "Read this letter."

"Why?"

"Just do it, sunshine."

Gabriel reluctantly took it from him and frowned upon opening it.

_My dearest, Michael_

_I hope this letter finds you well. It was good to see you again, and I once more give my condolences. I've never met the Maid, of course, but I'm sure she was brilliant; she had you for a guardian, after all. I do so hope to see you again soon for a rematch, one that I'm sure to win the next time we meet._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Ligur (Azazel)_

If angels could actually fall ill, Gabriel knew he would. No matter how many times he was reminded of it, he still couldn't believe Michael had secretly been in contact with the other side for so long. And though the letter itself was short and simple, he knew it would've meant a great deal to his sister.

"Not the original, of course," Satan said. "Michael probably has the actual one in her office somewhere, along with _all the others_."

Gabriel nearly tore the letter as he crumpled it up before handing it back to Satan. "So, what? Are you trying to imply that—"

"—that Michael deliberately gave you her job just so she could relive the past by gallivanting with her old flame?" Satan smirked, a glint in his eye. "What do _you_ think?"

"This still doesn't prove anything!" Gabriel insisted. "The letter is dated 1431, and Michael passed her duties onto me in 1517." _After_ that first letter. And who knew how many more there were up until that point? _Michael does._ "She wouldn't have been so irresponsible." By now, his voice had gone quiet.

"And yet, there's proof that says otherwise," Satan said bluntly. "Perhaps she'd always planned to pass on her burdens to you when you were made an Archangel."

Gabriel winced. He still remembered that day perfectly. _"You think I'm just doing this to spite you?"_ Michael had asked Raphael after he'd tried to put a stop to Gabriel's promotion ceremony. She never actually confirmed that as her reason for wanting to elevate his status, but she technically never _denied_ it, either.

 _Michael's a good angel!_ Gabriel told himself. I'm _a good angel!_ This didn't mean anything.

The king of demons was clearly enjoying every moment of this, yet still wrapped his arms around his youngest brother. "It's alright, sunshine. I know you must—"

"You know NOTHING!" Gabriel pushed the Devil off him, so hard that the demon crashed into a wall and causing a few mirrors to smash on the floor. The Archangel immediately stood, expecting retaliation. Regardless of the circumstances, he should've never allowed himself to get this close to the enemy.

Satan soon stood as well, blood coming from the side of his head, though he seemed to have barely taken any notice of it. Instead, he briefly surveyed the damage, and then his gaze landed on Gabriel.

The angel's own blood ran cold. His brother wasn't looking at him with anger or even disappointment.

It was _pride_.

_I need to get out of here!_

"Leaving so soon, sunshine?" Satan asked in a mocking tone as Gabriel began to approach the door. "Go on, then. I won't try and stop you. But do say hello to Mother and the others for me when you get Upstairs."

Gabriel froze just as his hand reached the doorknob. No one would ever trust him again if they knew about this.

_If._

The angel shook his head. _I can cross that stream when I get there._ When he was certain Satan really wouldn't try to stop him, he opened the door and ran away, never once looking back. The Devil was Michael's enemy, not his—she could deal with him herself when the time came.

If she still felt like it, that is.

Gabriel quickly shook the thought away, dispelling the resentment that was just beginning to bubble up inside him. At least one thing was certain: he was _never_ going to spend time with a demon again.

 _Guess the only thing left to do is go back home,_ Gabriel thought as he walked through Paris. He almost laughed. Did he even _have_ a home to go back to anymore?

 _Of course I do!_ Heaven would always be his home, regardless of any rumors or insurrection or his own extreme unpopularity. The others couldn't resent him forever. _Doesn't mean I still can't change their minds._ Trying to ruin Aziraphale had clearly backfired on him, so Plan B it was, then.

What _was_ Plan B?

As the angel kept on considering his options, his mind went back to his former charge's request. He didn't really blame Haniel for refusing and he still hated the very idea of a council, but...

But what else did he have left to lose? Hopefully the grievances weren't all _too_ whiny.

 _Wait_ _, does this mean I still need to work with Haniel?_ Gabriel thought. He knew it was what Jesus wanted, but would it really be so bad for him to work alone? Or perhaps Raphael could help him instead.

No, it was more likely that his brother would only decline. _This is_ your _responsibility,_ he would say.

Gabriel groaned, once again dreading the very thought of working with his Raphael's partner. But then again, was it not an angel's duty to help those in need, to stand ground even in the face of adversity? The more he thought about it, Haniel was both.

Maybe _this_ was why Jesus had been so insistent on the partnership. _This is my cross to bear,_ he realized. _And if He has confidence in me, then I just need to be confident in myself too!_ Forget slander, helping someone from the third sphere—even someone as equally unpopular as Haniel—would be the _real_ first step to regaining his reputation. And sure, the chances of any principality actually listening to him were slim, but if Haniel truly cared about Heaven, then it wouldn't take much convincing.

Then, when all was said and done, this whole revolution nonsense would finally be put to rest once and for all.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Besides today's chapter, I also recently posted another story about [Adam's mother](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26018596/chapters/63264811)

In the days following his encounter with Nithael, it was getting easier to maintain the illusion for more than a few hours at a time without it being so draining. Of course, once again cooping himself up in his office for the most part since he returned certainly helped avoid any suspicious looks as well.

_Raguel can take care of things until I get this sorted out,_ Haniel told himself whenever he felt the need to leave what'd essentially become his sanctuary. _No one_ could know of this, least of all the other principalities; they didn't need to get into any more trouble than they already were. Such a selfless act hadn't been enough to get his wings back to normal, but perhaps it simply wasn't an immediate thing.

Which was worrying, but so far, he'd done his best not to panic. Strangely, the little positivity notes Nithael sent along with each letter helped. He still didn't think she genuinely cared about him—especially since he'd struck a deal with her—but it was nice to at least pretend.

As for the letters themselves, going through them had only made Haniel feel uncomfortable; they went as far back to at least the days of Seth, with two of them having already expressed such deep malice towards Heaven and Michael especially. How could any angel have betrayed God like this? Despite his own frustrations, Haniel couldn't even begin to imagine doing the same.

And though he knew Ligur was no longer alive, there was still this strangely eerie presence he kept feeling whenever he so much as touched one of the scrolls, which were coming in at a slower pace than Haniel would've liked to receive them. He'd only gotten three so far, and it was clear that Nithael was only trying to make him feel desperate and frightened by not being quick enough.

_She's a_ communicator _, for God's sake!_ For her to have such limited access to previous messages just seemed nonsensical, regardless of the circumstances. Haniel tried not to let himself be too bothered by it, though—it was exactly what Nithael would want, and he wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of letting her ruffle his feathers any time soon.

"I should be grateful that I'm getting them at all," he said as he unrolled the latest one. Hopefully it wouldn't be yet another scroll that had been written too early for any change to have occurred.

_It would appear that you shall be encountering us angels more often, my friend._

Haniel shuddered, thinking it ludicrous that anyone could actually call Satan a _friend_ and mean it. After a moment, he pressed on.

_Henceforth from today, at my dear, simple Michael's recommendation, I shall be joined by several others to keep an eye on the humans to make sure they don't get any more foolish ideas on turning against Her. Yet strangely, we have been forbidden from making contact with them. Such a shame it would be if anything were to go wrong._

The principality breathed a sigh of relief, stifling his anger. Even if it hadn't given any hints to any symptoms, he must've at least been getting close if he was already at Jared's time. Well, unless Nithael was sending them out of order, but that was something he refused to dwell on. Instead, it was something else that was troubling him.

Did anyone else know of this?

He was still convinced that Raphael somehow did, but what of the other Watchers? Was this why they had been so ready to forsake their duties in favor of their own lust?

Haniel sighed, rolling up the scroll and placing it beside the others on a shelf. It was pointless to get worked up over something that happened so long ago. "What's done is done." All that mattered now was fixing his predicament. But deep down, he knew he couldn't do this alone, not if Nithael was going to be sending him scrolls only once per day.

_Maybe I_ should _tell someone else about this._ Raphael, specifically. He could keep a secret. _Besides,_ Haniel thought, glancing at the scrolls, _I already have enough in common with Ligur as is._ Perhaps entrusting him with such a dark secret would help mend their relationship.

Or break it further. After all, Raphael had been a notorious demon hunter in the past, and nearly attacked Nithael only recently. Would it really be wise to tell him?

_He wouldn't hurt me!_

Not unless he had no other choice. A seraph's first priority was to keep Heaven safe from any and all potential threats.

Haniel shook his head. Despite their distance, Raphael was still his partner. He should be able to trust him. _He's going to find out sooner or later anyway, I may as well tell him myself while I'm still not that far along._

_Just get it over with,_ Haniel told himself. _Just get it over with._ Taking a deep breath, the principality felt the illusion settle in with ease, and began to open the door. So long as he didn't let his emotions get the better of him, he should be fine.

"Hey, Haniel! Got a minute?"

Did the universe hate him? Was that it? "I'm rather busy at the moment, Gabriel," Haniel said, making sure to keep his voice even. Why couldn't the Archangel just leave him alone? Preferably by being behind bars. Moving past him and beginning to walk away, he said, "But if this is about what the Lord said—"

"Uh, it is, actually," Gabriel said as he walked beside him, the smile never leaving his face. "Now, I know we both have our objections to it, but I thought it over, and—"

"No."

For a brief second, Gabriel looked like he wanted to strangle him. "Don't be so stubborn," he said, maintaining his positive attitude. "We both want what's best for Heaven, right? And," he added while gesturing to the area around them, "have you ever seen this place look so empty?"

Was that a rhetorical question? "What's your point?"

Gabriel put his arm around him and pulled him closer, causing Haniel to glare at him. "My point, sunshine, is that maybe we really should put our differences aside and answer the complaints—I mean, _grievances_ —"

"Nice save."

"—together! And you don't want to disappoint Him, do you?"

Haniel stopped and shrugged the Archangel off. "Are you really trying to guilt trip me into doing your bidding?"

"Well, now, there's no need to be dramatic."

"Have you looked in a mirror lately?"

Gabriel seemed to be struggling with keeping his smile intact.

"In any case," Haniel continued, "I really, _really_ don't have time for this right now. I need to talk to Raphael about something, so—"

"Oh, so your crumbling relationship is more important than making Heaven peaceful again." There was bitterness in Gabriel's voice. "Right. Okay. I get it."

"That's not what I meant!" Haniel said, raising his voice only slightly. He knew he needed to stay calm, but doing so had quickly proven to be difficult when Gabriel was being so... _Gabriel_! _Why should I bother explaining myself to him?_

It was still hard to believe that _this_ was the angel he was expected to get along with. Why, when the Archangel had been nothing but arrogant and cruel and clearly wouldn't stop at nothing to make sure he remained in power? If anyone deserved to Fall, it was _him_!

_I never would've even thought of going against Gabriel if he'd just been better than Michael._

The Archangel had forced his hand.

The Archangel was a threat.

The Archangel _didn't deserve to live_.

Haniel gasped. How could have such morbid thoughts?

For once, Gabriel looked concerned. "What's wrong?"

The principality placed a hand on his head. "N-nothing."

"Maybe you _should_ go to Raphael." Resting a hand on Haniel's back, Gabriel added, "Come on, I'll take you to him."

Haniel was surprised, but let the Archangel guide him anyway. He knew Gabriel had been on Earth at the same time as himself, so maybe a month away from Heaven had made him more humble and understanding. _Jesus still trusts him for a reason, doesn't He?_ the principality told himself.

"And after you're all patched up, you can finally help me with whatever petty thing still needs fixing!"

And in an instant, the moment was gone. "You are the epitome of kindness," Haniel said dryly. But he had to admit, seeing Gabriel's warmer side had been nice while it'd lasted. "What made you change your mind?"

The Archangel hesitated for a brief second. "What, so I can't help out my fellow angels now?"

"You stormed out on your own charge when I saw you last."

"Only because you—" Gabriel sighed. "Look, point is, I'm tired of all this fighting and I just really want things to go back to normal now."

Haniel rolled his eyes. " _Normal_ , huh? So, you being back in power while the rest of us lesser angels are just supposed to accept that and pretend we actually like you?" It occurred to him that perhaps _that_ was why Gabriel was so keen for him to help. _I refuse to be used!_

The Archangel glared at him as he removed his hand. "I'm _trying_ here, Haniel! Why can't you?"

How dare he!

Gabriel sighed again. "You don't want to help bring peace? Fine! At least let me get you to Raphael faster." He snapped his fingers before the principality could protest.

A second later, Haniel felt a slight dizzying feeling wash over him before shaking his head and blinking rapidly, and a quick look of his surroundings and a sterile scent hitting his nose told him he was just near the medical bay. Even further ahead, he heard what appeared to be chanting.

"Oh look, it's the one who got us all into this mess."

Haniel looked behind him to see the healer angel Assiel glaring at him, while Suriel looked as indifferent as ever. Raphael stood between them, his expression just as unreadable.

"That's quite enough, Assiel," the seraph said, stepping towards his partner. "What are you doing here?"

Raphael had never sounded this cold towards him before, but Haniel forced himself to push down the bothersome feeling. "I really need to speak with you." Glancing at Raphael's co-workers, he added, "Alone."

"We're quite busy at the moment," Suriel said, nodding towards the chanting.

"What's going on?"

Assriel spoke again. "Thanks to you filling everyone else's heads with... _certain ideas_ , the other healers have gone on strike."

"We've all been discussing what to do next," Raphael said.

"Why not just give into their demands?"

Assriel laughed. "Oh, you'd just _love_ that wouldn't you?"

"Assriel, please." Raphael turned back to his partner, sighing. "It's not that simple, dear. Not everyone will want the same things, and there is _so much_ that must be taken into consideration, and—" Sighing, he added softly, "There can't be room for error."

Haniel frowned, pitying him. "You can't please everyone," he whispered to him.

"I know." Raphael smiled weakly. "But I'm a healer. It's my job to make sure everyone is happy and healthy. And with the virtues threatening to do the same and the other Archangels breathing down my neck—"

"Wait, what do the seraphim have to do with this?" Was Raphael only concerned with pleasing _his own_ rank? _No, no, that wouldn't be like him at all._

Raphael seemed more than ready to explain, until he was interrupted by Assriel.

"We don't have time for this!"

Suriel nodded in agreement. "And the more time we waste, the more illness there may be."

Haniel was confused. "Haven't the humans learned to be self-sufficient by now?"

Assriel actually looked offended by his implication. "Would _you_ want to risk it? I'm sure whatever it is you wish to discuss can wait."

"Assriel may have a point," Raphael said. "I'm sorry, Haniel, but I just don't have time for you right now. This is far too important."

"So is this!" He hadn't meant to raise his voice, and doing so only seemed to annoy Assriel even more.

"Can't be too important if you can't even spit it out," said the younger healer with a scoff.

"That's not—"

"Both of you, please." Raphael glared at Assriel to be silent and then tenderly cupped Haniel's face. "Whatever it is you have to tell me, you can say it in front of them, right?"

"I..." Haniel briefly considered it. Suriel seemed like the type of angel to keep things to herself, but not so much Assriel. _And they all seem stressed enough as is._ "On second thought, I suppose this _can_ wait." He regretted his deflection as soon as he said it. Forcing a smile, he took a few steps back and respectfully bowed his head. "I apologize for wasting your time."

Raphael's eyes slightly widened. "Apology accepted..." It almost seemed like he wanted to say something else. Clearing his throat, he turned back to his fellow healers. "Right then. Let's work on trying to negotiate again, okay?"

And with that, Raphael left to speak with the protesters, Assriel and Suriel joining him.

Haniel walked in the other direction, silently scolding himself. _Coward! You better_ pray _there'll be a next time!_ So, what now? Go back to his office again? Just the very thought made him groan. _I can't stay in there forever. It's just not... productive..._ He was an idiot. If he wanted to get something done, he was going to have to do it himself.

And maybe with a little bit of help.

_I'm going to hate this,_ he thought as he took out his phone and grimaced when he found the number. _But it'll be worth it._ "Gabriel? Yeah, so, about those grievances..."


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a possibility I may be taking a break after this, so if the next chapter isn't aligning with my current schedule, that's why, but hopefully it won't be too long before the next update.

" _Again_ , Raziel?"

"Sorry, Mike, but I really need to—"

"You don't _need_ to do anything!" Michael snapped. "Did Cerviel not already advise you to wait?" She couldn't believe he was prioritizing his silly, little newspaper over her. Or maybe she could, but to see it with her own eyes was still appalling nonetheless.

"Thought you didn't want me as your guardian."

"I don't, and quite frankly, your current selfishness and irresponsibility hasn't done much to change that, either."

"Selfishness!?" Raziel growled. "I'll have you know the _Observer_ brought angels together, so if I could just talk to my staff—"

" _Former_ staff."

"—then maybe it could be a step in the right direction." A pause, and then he said, "I'm doin' this for _Heaven_ , Michael. Please understand that." He almost looked remorseful.

This did little to quench Michael's irritation. "And you wonder why I don't trust you," she muttered, rubbing her temple. "I have been trying to tolerate your presence and give you a second chance, yet here you are, once again placing your emotions above your duty."

Raziel let out a bark of laughter. "I thought my duty was to be Heaven's scribe and interrogator."

"You know very well what I mean!" Michael growled, forming a fist. "And what if you _had_ filed the paperwork under the proper authorization?"

"Well, you'd probably take me more seriously, for one thing." Raziel sighed. "I know it's not responsible to leave like this, but just let me do this one thing and I _promise_ that not only will you be my top priority, but we'll actually put our lessons into practice after I get back."

Did he take her for a fool? She didn't think he was being malicious, but that only made his actions worse in her eyes. "Your... dedication is admirable, Raziel, but—"

"Are you two really arguing _again_?"

Michael repressed a sigh. Raziel wasn't the only angel she was annoyed with.

Aziraphale seemed both exasperated and concerned when he came into the back room. "I hope you two realize you're unsettling my customers."

Raziel shuffled his foot. "Sorry, Aziraphale," he said. "Michael and I will be quiet from now on."

 _Speaking on my behalf now, are you?_ "Don't act like you actually care for your customers, Aziraphale," Michael said. _Customers I can handle on my own._ Apparently the angel was much too attached to his bookshop to leave her in charge of it for more than a few days at a time.

"Well, I wouldn't say that," Aziraphale replied. "Although, you _did_ just make someone leave after they tried to buy a first edition Austen, so I suppose I must thank you for that." He laughed nervously, and when Michael and Raziel only looked at him in silence, he cleared his throat and continued. "Right, well, my point is, all this constant bickering can't possibly be productive for either of you."

"Tell me something I don't know," Michael deadpanned. "And we wouldn't even _be_ arguing if my so-called guardian here would just do his damn job and—"

"Okay, no, I'm not gonna stay here and take this!" Raziel glared at Michael, growling. "See you in three days, Chief!"

It took her a few seconds to process what he'd just said. _Three d—_ "Three days!?" She quickly grabbed his arm before he could even turn his back to her. "What the hell, Raziel?"

Raziel's eyes briefly flashed gold. "Look at it this way, you'll finally get a break from me and you can just do your own thing 'till I get back. So in a way, we both win."

She didn't realize her hold on him had gotten tighter until he winced.

"Michael, please!" Aziraphale tried to pull her away from Raziel. "No violence!"

"Silence!"

The principality flinched at her harsh tone, and Michael couldn't help but feel just a tiny bit satisfied by his reaction. But he was irrelevant, so she turned her attention back to the archangel. "You think you can just do things like this simply because I'm human now, don't you?" she snapped. "Because I'm currently weak and helpless. Is that it?"

"That's not what I think at all," Raziel said, trying to pull away.

 _Lies!_ Raziel was one of Haniel's followers, the _entire reason_ for why so many trusted pathetic little Aziraphale at all; why would he care for her at all? And perhaps that was why he'd been doing so little to help her, why he was so adamant on leaving for three days. _If he thinks he can sabotage me like this and get away with it, then he's far more stupid than I gave him credit for._ When she returned to Heaven, there would be consequences—not just for him, but for the rest of the rebels. One way or another, they would all pay for ruining her life and disturbing Heaven's perfect order.

They were all traitors, Haniel and his lot. She'd only be giving them what they deserved. Surely God would understand if she played judge, jury, and executioner just this once more?

"Commander, please!" Raziel was voice was shaking, his eyes having a pleading look in them. But he was an angel, and one who usually didn't resort to begging. Why wasn't he just miracling himself out of his situation if he was so—

 _Afraid._ He even called her by her title. Haniel's words came to mind again, of how her angels had been too fearful to speak up sooner after what she'd done to stop Lucifer and his followers. Michael doubted the Fall itself was the problem—her brother had given her no other choice—but what about afterward? She hadn't been the only one who'd lost a loved one that day. _Did I even do anything to comfort them?_

Probably not. Raphael was the healer, not her. She would've seen no reason to help. _They probably saw me as heartless._

So to gain yet another enemy simply wouldn't do at all, especially one as involved in media as Raziel was. "Sorry, Raziel," Michael said as she finally let him go.

But before she could continue, the archangel took a few steps back, the fear never leaving his eyes as he rubbed his arm. Aziraphale was at his side, putting a comforting hand on Raziel's shoulder while looking at Michael in disappointment. Neither angel said anything, and eventually, Raziel was led away, never once looking back. Michael didn't bother following.

 _I didn't mean to hurt him!_ He probably wouldn't come back again. And what if he told someone about this?

"Michael?" Aziraphale kept his distance when he came back.

"I-I'm sorry, Aziraphale," Michael said, hating herself for stammering. "I don't know what came over me, really. I hope I didn't frighten you."

"It's... fine," he said. It was clear that it wasn't and he simply didn't want any more conflict. "Er, why don't we lock up for the day?"

Michael felt an immediate spike of irritation. "Don't you trust me to take care of things myself?" she growled. She already knew the answer.

There was a brief pause, and then the angel said, "I was just wondering if you wanted to go to the park. I'm sure a bit of fresh air will help calm your nerves."

This only made her feel more annoyed. "Thank you for your concern, Aziraphale," she said with forced indifference. "But I think I'm better off just going on my own." She didn't need to be looked after, least of all by _him_. Grabbing her coat, she approached the door and said, "I'll be back in two hours."

* * *

Going to the park should've been a good idea; she was away from Aziraphale, away from any potential passive-aggressive comments. It was just her and her alone on a walk while the crisp, autumn wind blew in her face. But try as she might, Michael couldn't ignore all the humans passing her by—couples hand-in-hand, parents with their children—all seeming to be enjoying the cool day.

All seeming to be completely happy with their lives.

And Michael knew she should've been glad that all seemed to be right in the world, but how could she, when her own life was in such disarray? _Why am I so selfish?_ If God were here, She'd likely be just as disgusted with Her eldest as Michael herself was. Or perhaps that was why She had done nothing to stop Nithael, why She had been so silent for many years now. _Maybe I'm just wasting my time out here._ And so long as Aziraphale didn't say anything at all or—better yet—stayed out of the bookshop entirely, then perhaps her staying in the shop until she regained her angelic status really wouldn't be so bad after all.

As she walked back to the shop, Michael saw a woman who seemed to be in about her thirties pacing in front of a bench while muttering to herself and rubbing her hands. Despite the chill, the wrinkled clothes she wore seemed like they were better suited for warmer weather, and her brown hair was in a messy bun. A few passerby gave her curious and puzzled looks, but she ignored them.

 _Hmm..._ Michael tried very hard not to smile. _Maybe this day hasn't been a complete waste after all._ "Excuse me? Miss?"

The woman flinched and turned her head towards Michael. "Yes?"

Michael stepped closer. "Are you alright?"

Despite seeming flustered, the woman quickly nodded her head. "Yes, I'm fine. I-I think."

"You _think_?" Michael couldn't help laughing. "I'm sorry," she quickly said when she saw the woman frowning. "I mean not to upset you. But you seem so distressed, I thought I'd come check on you."

The woman slowly began to relax. "Thank you for your concern, ma'am. But I am a complete stranger. What do my feelings matter to you?"

Michael was taken aback by the question. "Well, because it's the right thing to do!" _And because you may just be able to help me with part_ _of my_ _problem._ But _mostly_ because it was the right thing to do! Sitting down on the bench, she added, "You look like you could use someone to talk to."

The woman still seemed cautious, but eventually took a seat beside Michael while still keeping her distance. "Nothing has been going well for me lately."

Almost at once, Michael felt a wave of pity towards the human. "I know how that feels."

"Hm?"

"Er, long story." The former Archangel shook her head. "But let's focus on you for now. What's your name, dear?"

The woman gave a shy, hesitant smile. "Jane, ma'am. And yours?"

"Mi—" Michael immediately stopped herself. _I can't use my real name!_ How could she have almost forgotten? "Michelle," she said at last. It was easier to simply use the more feminine variant. "Michelle Goodwin. Pleased to meet you, Jane."

Jane, seeming not to notice Michael's near slip-up, shook her hand. "And you, Miss Goodwin. I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me."

"No trouble at all, dear. Now, if I may ask," Michael added, looking up-and-down at her new companion, "why aren't you properly dressed for the weather?"

Jane sighed. "It was all they had at the abbey."

"You're a nun?" Michael asked, feeling hopeful. Maybe she wouldn't have to hide after all.

To her dismay, Jane shook her head. "I'm homeless. Just had to leave earlier today and I don't know what to do next."

Michael's eyes widened and she scooted closer to the woman. "Oh, you poor thing!" What kind of servants of the Lord turned away someone in need? She took off her coat and draped it over Jane's shoulder. "Here."

Tears welled up in Jane's eyes, seeming grateful. "You don't have to do this."

"I absolutely insist! In fact..." _Oh, I do hope Aziraphale doesn't mind._ "Jane, why don't you stay with me at my... cousin's bookshop? I can even brew you a spot of tea, and he makes the most delicious crepes."

The mention of proper shelter and food made Jane's eyes go wide, but she still seemed unsure. "Are you certain? I wouldn't want to intrude."

"Nonsense!" Michael smiled as she helped Jane to her feet. "He won't mind." _If he knows what's good for him._ "Now come. Let's get going before we both catch a cold."


	32. Chapter 32

"And my... cousin said you could stay here?"

Jane frowned, clearly aware of Aziraphale's discomfort. "Yes, if that is alright with you, Mr. Fell. Of course, I could always just go to a homeless shelter and—"

Michael stood behind the poor woman and placed both hands on her shoulders. "We'll have none of that now, dear. And I've never known my cousin to turn _anyone_ away. It simply wouldn't be very... Christian of him." With a glare towards Aziraphale and a false smile, she said through gritted teeth, "Right, _Ezra_?"

Aziraphale smiled in a way that Michael couldn't quite tell if it was sincere or not. "Of course I don't mind. Although, I do wish Michelle had told me earlier she was bringing someone," he added as he looked directly at Michael.

"Forgive me for not having my phone on my person," Michael said, not even bothering to hide her annoyance, which quickly disappeared when she turned her attention back to Jane. "Now, I'm sure you're simply famished, my dear. What would you like to eat?"

"Anything you have," Jane said. "I'm not picky."

"Why don't I order some sushi?" Aziraphale suggested. "In the meantime, please help yourself to some reading. And... Michelle? A quick word, please? In _private_."

Michael smiled and nodded and after giving Jane's shoulder a pat, she followed Aziraphale further into the shop.

"What were you thinking?" the angel asked in a stern tone as soon as they were alone.

"I was _thinking_ of helping someone in need!" Michael snapped. "She's homeless, Aziraphale, and what'll happen when winter comes?"

"I never said I'd throw her out," he said, his face softening. "I was just wondering what you were thinking."

Feeling a flare of hope for the second time that day, Michael smiled. "Does that mean she can stay?"

Aziraphale sighed and briefly glanced at Jane's direction. "What choice have you given me?" Michael could've sworn she heard bitterness in his voice. "You're right about one thing, and it's that I would never turn away someone in need." There was a pause, and then he said, "She may stay for a few days, and we can help find her family before she leaves."

"She has no family."

"Friends, then?"

Michael shook her head. "As far as I know, she's on her own, Aziraphale."

His eyes flickered in surprise and he briefly glanced down, as though recalling his own loneliness. "It's wonderful that you wish to help her, Michael, but she can't stay here forever," he said softly.

"I know," Michael replied just as quietly. She was lucky Aziraphale was letting Jane stay at all. "And she probably wouldn't even be here now if those nuns hadn't kicked her out."

Aziraphale frowned. "I still don't understand how those devoted to the Almighty could do something like this."

"Exactly what I thought," Michael said as she crossed her arms and leaned against a wall. "But then, humans are flawed and sinful beings. It'd simply be a waste to expect them to live up to our standards, even the ones in service to Her."

Aziraphale pursed his lips."Even if that _were_ true—"

"And it is, no thanks to your demon." She tended to avoid Crowley whenever she could.

"As I was _saying_ —" the sternness in Aziraphale's voice returned—"perhaps we could look into this congregation a bit more and look for answers. There has to be _someone_ who's been missing her."

"And if there isn't?"

Aziraphale was silent as he began to think. "Well, she's already thought about going to a homeless shelter, and I don't see any reason why we can't help her secure employment. The papers have job advertisements in them all the time, and—"

As soon as Aziraphale mentioned employment, it was like a light went off in Michael's head. "Why doesn't she just work here? Instead of paying her to sell books, she'll just get money every time she doesn't." _And it'd give me the chance to spend time with someone I at least tolerate._

"Er... we'll see..." Clearing his throat, Aziraphale said, "Now, I better go order that sushi and you can make sure our new guest gets settled in."

"Yes, of course," Michael said and watched Aziraphale walk away. _He didn't have to let Jane stay, especially with how I've treated him, and yet..._ "Aziraphale?"

The angel and looked over his shoulder to face her. "Hm?"

"I..." Michael took a deep breath. _Why is this so hard?_ "Thank you for agreeing to help Jane. I know I'm not the easiest to get along with, so it means alot that you're doing this."

Aziraphale was silent again, and his expression was unreadable. "Of course, Michael," he said at last. "As you've said, I would never turn anyone away."

Michael's heart sank. _Idiot!_ _Of course_ he wasn't doing this for her sake! Why would he? And what did she care if he did or didn't? All that mattered was that Jane got the help she needed. _If only I_ _was_ _still an angel,_ Michael thought as she approached the woman again. It'd be much easier to help her then. "Feeling alright, Jane?"

Jane looked up from the book she was reading and nodded. "Thank you again for your hospitality. I do hope I'm not giving you and Mr. Fell any trouble."

Michael shook her head and smiled. "It's really no trouble at all, dear. And please forgive Ezra. He generally prefers to be alone unless he's in the company of his... _partner_."

Jane laughed. "You don't seem to like her very much."

" _Him_ , and I don't!"

"Oh!" Jane looked embarrassed now. "Forgive me, I didn't realize your cousin was—"

"Gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide?"

"...Not the exact words I would use, but yes." Eyes bright, Jane added, "But it's wonderful that Mr. Fell is comfortable with expressing himself." After a moment, she frowned and asked, "Is that why you don't like—what was his name—Crowley?"

Michael shook her head. "Goodness, no! My disapproval of Crowley is... let's just say, very complicated. And for your sake, let's hope you never meet him. He's a bad influence, Jane. That's all I'll say on the matter."

The woman seemed like she wanted to know more, but instead said, "Of course, Miss Goodwin," and returned to her book.

There was an awkward silence between them just then, and after drumming her fingers on the table for a bit, she glanced at the book and asked, "So, what are you reading?"

"Milton's _Paradise Lost_ ," came the immediate response. "I wonder if the real Lucifer was this whiny."

Michael stifled a laugh, half wishing she could tell Jane the truth. Milton hadn't been completely accurate, but at least it was better than Dante, who'd only been _partially_ right about Hell and absolutely wrong about everything else. It was easy to see why his trilogy was called the _Divine Comedy_.

"Sushi should be here soon!" Aziraphale said cheerfully, seeming more excited about the food than Jane herself was. "So, tell me about yourself, Jane. Michael already told me how some nuns made you leave, but how did you find yourself in such a situation in the first place?"

The woman glanced away from Aziraphale. "Well, I... I..."

The angel looked at her with concern. "Just take your time, dear."

Jane smiled gratefully and continued after taking a deep breath. To Michael, she said, "I probably should've told you this sooner, Miss Goodwin, but I... I'm afraid I can't remember. In fact, I barely remember anything before..."

"Before what?" Michael prompted.

Jane gulped. "Before my coma."

Michael simply stared at her, feeling a mix of pity and dread. Whoever these nuns were would surely pay.

Aziraphale gasped. "Oh, dear! I'm so sorry!" He looked at Michael, and she knew they were both thinking the same thing. _This is going to be harder than we thought._

 _But wait..._ "Shouldn't you be at a hospital, then?" Michael asked.

Jane shrugged. "The abbey didn't see it as neccessary. They had medical supplies, and plenty of them had studied to become doctors and nurses before joining the abbey."

"Even so..." _I must ask Raziel to investigate when he returns._ No matter how flawed humans were, it was simply impossible for an _entire order_ to just leave someone in Jane's condition alone without a plan. _Or maybe I simply don't know Her servants as well as I think I do._

"The nuns were kind," Jane continued, as though sensing Michael's suspicious.

 _Somehow I doubt that._ "What's the name of the congregation?" If she that was her earliest memory, then it was best to start there.

"I don't know."

Michael stared at her. "W-what?"

Jane twiddled her fingers. "They never told me."

"And you never thought to ask?"

The woman went silent and hung her head in shame. After a moment, she began to sob. "I'm sorry!"

Aziraphale rubbed her back while glaring at Michael. "There, there, Miss Smith. We can figure this out together. _Right_ , Michelle?"

Michael forced a smile. "Right." _Lord, grant me patience._ "Which means staying here for as long as you need. You don't mind, do you, Ezra?"

For once, Aziraphale looked like he wanted to murder her. "Of course I don't." The words couldn't have been more forced.

Jane dried her eyes. "Oh, thank you! How will I ever be able to repay such kindness?"

"That won't be neccessary, dear," Aziraphale said. "Only your happiness is enough. Now, while we wait for the food, why don't you take some time to rest for thirty minutes?"

Before Jane could respond, there was a finger snap, and the woman was out like a light immediately after, resting her head on the table.

"Aziraphale!"

"Some rest will do her some good, Michael. And besides," he added while she took the unconscious Jane into her arms, "it'll give us more time to talk privately. I suppose I should also let Crowley in on this, and then—"

"Crowley?" Michael stared at him. "I know you love him, Aziraphale, but must you involve him in _everything_?" She didn't wait for him to respond, choosing instead to carry Jane to the sofa. _What does that demon have to do with any of this?_

"I just think he could be of great use to us," Aziraphale said once he caught up to her.

Michael scoffed. "How so? I get he's immune to holy water, but I see no reason why he would be involved with any congregations unless—" She stopped herself and her gaze swept between the angel and the sleeping human. "Oh, honestly, Aziraphale!" It wouldn't make any sense for sweet Jane to be involved with her brother's religion.

 _Unless that was why she was kicked out in the first place._ Michael shook her head to rid herself of the thought. "Not every bad person is a Satanist."

"I know that, but—"

"And even if your little theory _is_ true, we don't need Crowley to help us," Michael continued. "Besides, _we're_ not involved with every single church built in Her name, are we? Why should it be any different for demons and Satanists?"

Aziraphale thought it over for a moment. "Yes, I... I suppose you have a point."

Michael sighed. "It's good you're trying to help, Aziraphale, but why don't we just contact Raziel instead so he can look through her file?"

"You think he'll help?"

She cringed. "I have to believe he will." _After_ she apologized, of course. But regardless, even _he_ wouldn't leave anyone to suffer, surely?

 _He left_ you _, didn't he?_

"In fact," Michael quickly added, "I'll contact him at once!"

* * *

"Michael, I thought I said I'd return in three days."

Michael tried not to let Raziel's coldness bother her. "I know," she said. _I should probably start with apologizing first._ "But I'm really sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have hurt you in the way that I did and I hope you can forgive me one day."

Raziel's expression was completely unreadable. "Thank you for your apology," he said after seconds of silence. "Now," he continued while crossing his arms, "why did you _really_ summon me?"

Behind her back, Michael made a fist. _I deserve this_ , she told herself, her nails piercing into her palms. _Just give him time._ Taking a deep breath, she said, "There's an amnesiac homeless woman I found alone in the park who was apparently abandoned by nuns and will be staying with us until she's back on her feet, and now I need you to check her file for any loved ones she may still have."

Raziel stared at her in confusion. "I'm sorry, what?"

Michael groaned and took his hand. "Just come on," she said as she took him to the back room, where Jane was still sleeping and Aziraphale was watching over her.

"Hello, Raziel," said the principality in a quiet voice.

"Hi, Aziraphale." Nodded to Jane, he asked, "So, what's her name?"

"Jane Smith."

Raziel's eyes widened, looking at Michael, Aziraphale, and then focused on Jane again. "Oh, well finding her file should be _really_ easy, then!"

Ignoring his sarcasm, Michael asked, "Will you help us or not?"

"Yeah, yeah, just give me a minute," he said while miracling a tablet in his hands. "Although, I don't see why you didn't just summon a memory angel instead." Without waiting for a reply, Raziel asked while tapping, "What's her age?"

"She appears to be in her thirties," Aziraphale said.

" _Exact_ age!"

Both he and Michael went silent.

Raziel gave an exasperated sigh and tapped on the device again. "Estimate it is, then. Let's see... light skin, brown hair, looks to be about five feet... Eye color?"

"Brown," Michael told him.

The archangel tapped away again, glancing at Jane on occasion as he muttered to himself. "'Kay, now we just wait for the results, and—" Raziel broke off and grimaced. Before Michael could ask what was wrong, the archangel laughed nervously and poofed the tablet away. "Second thought, why don't I just look into her myself? Technology is overrated anyway!"

Aziraphale seemed almost uncomfortable. "Is that the only way?"

"Not unless you want me to go through all two hundred Jane Smiths in England."

"Ah. Yes, I suppose you have a point." Reluctantly, he added, "Go on, then."

Raziel nodded gratefully and carefully placed a hand on Jane's head. The archangel muttered to himself again that Michael guessed was chanting, and a bright gold light surrounded him, though it didn't seem to be bothering Jane one bit. After a few minutes, the determined look on Raziel's face slowly began to slip to one of confusion. "Huh," he said when he took his hand off the human, the light fading.

"What is it?" Aziraphale asked. "Did you find anything?"

"That's the thing." Raziel turned his head to face him and Michael, disturbed. "Her subconscious ain't givin' anythin'!"

"...And that's not normal?"

The archangel shook his head.

"What about her time at the abbey?" Michael asked. "The name, at least?"

"I'm tellin' ya, there's nothin' there."

Michael's brow creased. Someone simply couldn't just... _appear_ , could they? Not unless... "Raziel? Is she human?" She hoped he understood what she was really asking.

She was slightly dismayed when he nodded. "'Course she is! That much I definitely _can_ tell ya. But..." He glanced at Jane again. "I did feel somethin' strange while I was tryin' to go through her mind, like there was somethin' blockin' me from goin' in any further."

Aziraphale seemed concerned again. "Do you know what it could be?"

"I... may have a theory." Raziel gave them both a weak, sad smile. "So, either of you know anythin' 'bout Lethe water?"


	33. Chapter 33

For once, Raziel hoped he had been wrong about something. The Greeks had been accurate about some things, and one of them had been regarding the existence of Lethe; unlike the usual tale, the river did not run through Hades, but was in fact located in its own realm, one that connected Earth and the Afterlife and was thus supposed to be completely inaccessible to humans— _live_ ones, that is. So for this Jane Smith to have drank from it simply didn't make any sense whatsoever.

 _Did some angel introduce her to it?_ he wondered. _Or maybe a demon?_ And if so, which one?

Of course, it wasn't like he could just ask the woman, who had awaken a mere ten minutes ago and was currently eating alongside Aziraphale and Michael while he stood a little aways from them, yet he could still feel Jane's curious gaze on him. "So, who is he again?" he heard her ask either Michael or Aziraphale while he scrolled through his tablet again; after awhile, several feminine faces filled the screen, eventually blurring together as he went through the list mindlessly. Yet not a single one of them resembled the homeless woman Michael had found.

Which either meant the human wasn't English by birth, or she wasn't who she claimed to be. _Guess I have an even bigger mystery on my hands._ He would've been excited if he wasn't so tired.

Tired of the injustice.

Tired of the secrets and lies.

Tired of all the fighting.

Maybe it was time he went into retirement. He heard from the astronomers that Andromeda was lovely this time of year.

After a brief silence, it was Michael who answered the women's question. "Just an old friend," she said. "And... a practicing doctor! Isn't that right... Rufus?"

 _Rufus!?_ The device nearly slipped from Raziel's hands as he turned his head towards the trio, and he saw Michael silently pleading with him to play along as her eyes grew wide. "Yeah, that's right," he said at last, never once leaving her gaze. _How dare you rope me into this!_

Jane's face lit up with fascination. "Ah! What kind of doctor?"

"I... work with the brain."

"So, a neurologist, then?"

"...Yes. And I was called to oversee your case."

Unfortunately for him, Jane tilted her head, puzzled. "Shouldn't we be doing this at a hospital then, doctor? And should I really be eating, or does that not matter in this instance?"

"Uh, well—"

Aziraphale stood and smiled widely. "Why don't I clean up? Jane, dear, would you like to help me?"

The human nodded and helped him gather the plates and silverware to take to the sink, and it was then Raziel realized that the principality was indeed the closest thing his sphere had to their very own savior. _Thank you!_ he thought as he slumped against a wall and heaved a heavy sigh of relief. And then he turned his head sharply towards Michael. _"Rufus!"_ he hissed once he was sure the pair were out of earshot. "Really?"

Michael raised an eyebrow. "I thought you liked acting."

"I do, but I would never choose the name _Rufus_!" It sounded like the name for a type of rodent, and it simply didn't have that same commanding feeling the way _Alexander_ or _Charles_ or even _William_ did. "And anyway, haven't you heard that less is more? I know absolutely nothin' about neurology! I refuse to be involved in this."

"Well, you are now," Michael said unsympathetically as ever as she approached him. "You're practically the only angel I still trust to not make a mess of things, Raziel." She smiled gently and reached out a hand to touch his arm, and this immediately caused him to flinch.

 _"Insolent fool! Did you think I would not notice you_ _giving_ _away Heaven's secrets to those sinful mortals?"_

_"I-I'm sorry, commander! I only meant to help them!"_

The memory vanished almost as quickly as it'd come. He hadn't thought about that day in centuries, but ever since Michael had acted aggressively towards him just about an hour or two ago, it'd been haunting him. _Maybe I should talk to someone about this,_ he thought, but then reconsidered. Something like this would easily be used to against the former Archangel, and for Heaven's sake, he simply couldn't allow that to happen.

Michael must've noticed how uncomfortable he was feeling, as she frowned not long after. "It can't still be hurting, right?" she asked while glancing at his arm, as though she _hadn't_ been the one who had almost literally twisted it earlier. "You're an _angel_ , Raziel. Just preform a simple miracle on it or ask a healer to tend to you. And while you're at it, see what you can find on possibly reversing the water's effects."

 _So much for that apology!_ Raziel gave a tight smile, hoping it was convincing. "Good idea, Chief," he said forcefully. "In fact, I think I'll head Upstairs right now!" _Away from you!_ Why did he ever think Michael had been capable of changing her behavior towards the angels? But at least she was seemingly warming up towards humanity, so surely that had to count for _something_?

"Leaving again already?" It was hard to tell whether she was disappointed or annoyed.

"You're the one who suggested seeing a healer," he pointed out, pretending the pain was still there by rubbing his arm. He couldn't recall either Adam or Eve being nearly as difficult.

"You know what I mean, Raziel," she said sternly. "I've made it clear that I don't approve of your current role as my guardian, but if you're prioritizing that little newspaper of yours over my life, then you might as well just return to whatever it was you were doing before Raguel sent you down here."

"Oh look, for once we're agreein' on somethin'." He hadn't meant to say it aloud, but at this point, he didn't care. What could she do to him that she hadn't already? "Look, I'll still try to look for the girl's file as well as a cure, but I think it's best if we just go our separate ways, at least until you get back. And Aziraphale isn't so bad, right?"

Michael was silent, though her narrowed eyes held a mixture of shock and fury within them.

"Besides," he added quickly before she could protest, "you _technically_ now have your own ward to look after, and you seem to have a basic grasp of Earth anyway. You'll be fine without me." _I hope._

"Hm." After a moment, Michael glanced in Jane and Aziraphale's direction before turning back to him. He thought she would be against the idea, until she said, "I suppose you have a point. But what about Raguel? Won't she be mad?"

Raziel scoffed at the mention of the principality. Part of him was almost touched she was showing concern. "Don't worry about me," he said nonchalantly. "I can handle her." The justice angel was one rank above his, but at the end of the day, she wasn't his leader. _Why hadn't I stood my ground sooner?_ "With any luck, I'll have the results by the end of the week and I'll send them your way once they're ready."

"Thank you, Raziel." Michael appeared grateful, but then a sudden awkwardness settled between them. "And again, I'm very sorry for what happened earlier."

The archangel studied her face for a few seconds. Did she expect forgiveness? _Well, she's gonna have to wait a long time for that to happen unless she cleans up her act!_ "I'll just see you later," he said at last, and if she said anything in return, he didn't stay around to hear it.


	34. Chapter 34

"So, why exactly did you wanna come here?"

"I _told_ you, I thought it'd give us more privacy."

"Okay, but that still doesn't explain why you chose such a dingy little cottage to use as our space."

_Dingy!?_ It was tempting to just shut the door in Gabriel's face, but Haniel resisted the urge to do so. _Remember what this is for,_ he told himself, carrying the papers to a nearby table. "A thousand pardons, Your Glory. Perhaps next time, we shall go to a lavish palace filled to the brim with silver and gold."

Gabriel rolled his eyes as he crossed the threshold, and set his share of the stack of grievances near Haniel's. "The sarcasm isn't neccessary."

_It's not my fault you make it too easy._ "Anyway," said the principality, stretching out his arms, "welcome to my Earthly home. I hope you find your stay comfortable, and may we get this assignment over with so that we never have to work together ever again."

"You're a terrible host, you know that?" Gabriel's violet gaze briefly swept across the room, his nose scrunching. "And are you sure we can't go somewhere else?"

"What's wrong with my house?"

"Like I said, it's pretty small, for one thing."

"It's not _that_ small." Sure, it wasn't as grand as Heaven, but his Neapolitan home was still spacious enough and even had another floor. What more did Gabriel want?

The Archangel however ignored his protest. " _And_ it's in Italy, so there's also that."

"What's wrong with Italy?"

Gabriel's only reply was a scoff before untying the rope and taking a few papers into his hands. By the time he turned back to Haniel, his face softened, and despite the state of his wings, the principality was still able to feel strong affection coming from the Archangel. "Aw. The kid color-coded them."

After being handed the papers, Haniel saw that on top of the first page was a small chart indicating which grievance was coming from which rank. _And_ of course _the seraphim are coded in gold._ "At least this'll make things easier," Haniel said, flipping through the pages. Levitating the rest of the papers so that they would surround him, the principality set the chart aside, only glancing at it only on occasion as he sorted the pages by color.

"Show-off," Gabriel muttered once Haniel was done.

Haniel ignored him and went over to the stack with the blue text—the one representing his own rank. "I think we should start with the third sphere first."

As expected, Gabriel immediately laughed. "Bias much?"

"Perhaps," Haniel said, shrugging. "But you should know by now, Gabriel, that in order to address any issues regarding unrest, one must start at the bottom of the hierarchy and then work their way up to the top." Holding the first page, he added, "Besides, this all started because of Aziraphale... and me."

"Ah, so you're _finally_ feeling guilt," Gabriel said smugly.

Haniel glared at him. "Do you want to get this done or not?"

"Fine, fine." He pulled up a chair. "But I wasn't trying to protest, just making an observation."

_Of course you were._

The Archangel took the page from Haniel's hand and quickly read it over, but then frowned. After turning the paper, he asked, "Have _all_ of them gone unsigned?"

Haniel nodded. "It's for protection."

"Protection?" Gabriel echoed. He almost looked hurt.

"Don't look so upset," Haniel said, pushing down any sympathy. _He doesn't deserve it._ "After all the fighting, it's understandable for the others to be wary."

The Archangel pressed his lips together. " _All this_ —" he gestured towards the other papers— "because of me sparring with Raphael?"

_Is that what you're calling it?_ "I know this may be hard to believe, but not everything is about _you_ , Gabriel."

"Well, then, what other fight could you possibly be referring to?"

Haniel stared at him for several seconds, mouth agape. "Raphael still hasn't told you?"

"Told me what?"

The principality took a step back, returning his focus to the stack and grabbed several pages. "Let's not worry about that now, okay?" he said, grinning. "Right now, we should—"

"Haniel." Gabriel's voice was calm, yet there was still a hint of demand underneath it. "Told me _what_?"

Haniel glanced away from him. "Are you sure you really want to know?"

"I'm asking, aren't I?"

"Yes, I-I suppose you are." Taking a seat beside him, he said, "Okay, so, I guess I'll just come right out and say it, huh?"

"That would be preferable, yes." Gabriel was now tapping his foot impatiently.

Haniel sighed. "Last month, while you and Raphael were on Earth, the Son and Peter called a meeting to discuss the unrest that was going on in Heaven. One of the low Angels knew about Michael, blabbed to the entire Host, and that somehow lead to infighting."

_"Somehow?"_ Gabriel's eye twitched. "Is that all?" he asked through clenched teeth, finger tapping rapidly on the table.

Well, there was also him making what's‐her-name— _Batyah? Bracha? It's on the_ _tip_ _of my tongue_ —cry, the Host becoming furious with him for keeping Michael's situation a secret, and then a few angels later accused him of being involved with Nithael's plan, but none of that was really important right now, was it? "I thought you knew," Haniel said. He knew Raphael wanted to spare Gabriel any more grief, but did he really plan to keep this a secret from his little brother forever?

"I _should've_!" Gabriel rubbed his forehead. "I should've known..."

Once again, seeing the Archangel so upset almost made Haniel feel sorry for him. What else had Raphael kept from him?

"Is that why Heaven has been so empty?" he asked. "More than usual, I mean."

Haniel nodded sadly. It hurt seeing his home so divided. "It's going to be fine, though! That's why He gave us such a task, and once we're done—" He broke off when he noticed Gabriel was shaking, seemingly consumed in his own thoughts while his face was buried in his hands.

And then he—the Archangel Gabriel—started sobbing.

_Oh no._ Where were the other seraphim when you needed them? "Hey, everything's going to be okay."

"Okay?" Gabriel finally looked at him again, tears falling as he glared at the principality. "We're on the brink of another civil war and you think everything's going to be _okay_!?"

Haniel turned his face from him. "Well, excuse me for trying to comfort you," he muttered while miracling Gabriel a handkerchief, which he took.

"Thanks," the Archangel said curtly.

Haniel only acknowledged him with a grunt. _Look at me, being useful to him!_ "Just dry your eyes so that we may get started!"

"Anyone ever told you how bossy you are?"

"And what does that make you?"

"Your manager." Haniel could've sworn he heard humor in Gabriel's voice. "But much as I _really_ hate to admit it, you're right. We probably should just get this over with."

Haniel allowed himself to form a genuine smile when he looked at Gabriel again. "Let's get started, then." Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. Duplicating the first page, the principality passed him the copy.

Gabriel shook his head, pushing the page away. "You're their leader, right? Why don't you just tell me what your rank wants and maybe we can reach a compromise."

Haniel stared at him and then glanced at the section belonging to his siblings. "You mean I brought this portion with me for nothing? he asked flatly. "And anyway, we're not a monolith!"

"I know that," Gabriel said. "It's just... you know the other principalities better than anyone. And they all sided with you for a reason, right? I just figured it'd be a good start if we took a more direct approach first."

"Hm." _I guess it_ would _make things go faster and easier,_ he thought. But would Gabriel really, truly _listen_? _Only one way to find out._ "Okay," he said at last. "Well, I suppose there's not really much to tell. I believe I've made it quite clear that all I and the rest of the third sphere want is respect."

"And you were hoping to gain that by humiliating the topmost rank?" When Gabriel noticed Haniel's glare, he quickly flashed a smile that was probably meant to be charming. "Sorry, sorry! Old habits die hard." Clearing his throat, he added, "So, what exactly has my rank done to earn your ire? Recent events aside, of course."

Haniel laughed. "What _haven't_ you done? Here's the gist of it: Michael acted like a tyrant for much of her leadership and you all stood by and did _nothing_!" _Including Raphael and God._ He didn't dare say this aloud. _I can't be blasphemous._

"That's not fair, Haniel!" Gabriel said, raising his voice only slightly. "Michael had to set boundaries after the Falls. _Especially_ after the second one." He scrunched his nose, perhaps remembering the Watchers.

"And I understand that," the principality said calmly. "Really, I do. But did they have to come with such harsh restrictions? Only being allowed to preform a few miracles a day, for one thing—"

"You call that harsh?" Gabriel asked, annoyed. "Clearly she didn't want you abusing your powers. God only knows how many notifications I've gotten of one of you making some unwanted guest leave."

Haniel bit down a sharp retort. That sounded like something the younger principalities would do, something _Aziraphale_ would do, from the little he knew of him. "And maybe it started out that way, but then she started to make threats involving clipping and stripping the wayward of their powers and..." _All of which had been empty, but no less frightening._ He recalled how furious Michael seemed when she announced the names of the new Fallen, and how strained her voice had gotten when she'd said Azazel's name. "Gabriel, I'm sure even _you_ can't deny at least some of her actions were done out of grief."

To his surprise and satisfaction, he left the Archangel speechless. Instead of coming to his sister's defense again, Gabriel stared at the floor and shuffled his foot nervously. "Michael's a good angel," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

"I know she is," Haniel replied. "Everyone does. She's just not a good leader."

After a moment, Gabriel lifted his head and blinked rapidly, as though remembering he wasn't the only one in the room. "What about me?"

Haniel carefully considered his words—he couldn't afford to anger him, not now. "You're... an improvement," the principality said at last. "You brought Raphael back home, for one thing. And for that, I will forever be grateful."

"But...?"

"But that is all the good you've ever done since taking over."

Gabriel seemed genuinely disturbed, his eyes wide as he clenched his fists. "I've done my best!" he said defensively, though his voice sounded weak. "What more do you want me to do? Reverse all of Michael's policies?"

Haniel shook his head, ignoring how uncomfortable he was currently feeling. "Of course not. That would only lead to anarchy. But perhaps the next time an angel acts out, you would do well to consider some other form of punishment that doesn't require _setting them on fire_!"

Gabriel's anger returned as he stood to loom over Haniel. "You're _still_ going on with that?" he growled. "Aziraphale lived, didn't he?"

"That's not the point and you know it!" Taking a deep breath, Haniel continued more calmly. "I've looked through Aziraphale's file, Gabriel. His romantic preferences aside, he's a wonderful angel and was an excellent asset to Heaven. And then you tried to kill him."

The Archangel sat back down, the frustration never leaving his face. "You know very well why he needed to be destroyed, Haniel," he said, his voice growing colder with each word.

" _Needed_ to be destroyed?" Haniel stared at him. "Gabriel, do you even hear yourself? How would _you_ like it if someone tried to do the same to you?" _Of course, that could always be arranged._ The principality pushed the idea down, waiting for Gabriel to answer.

"Well, what about _you_ , huh?"

_Ah, he's avoiding the question. Wonderful._ "What _about_ me?"

"You've never cared for Aziraphale before, don't even try denying it!"

Haniel was silent for a moment, trying not to let the guilt consume him. "And I won't," he said at last. "I admit, as a leader of his rank and his eldest brother, I should've done more— _much_ more—to be close to him, to make sure he was comfortable. But you were his _supervisor_ , someone he was supposed to be able to trust with his life."

"And he broke that trust when he wanted to prevent the Apocalypse!"

"Now that I think about it, wasn't that ultimately the _Antichrist's_ doing anyway?"

Gabriel's eyes darkened at the mention of his nephew. "That's besides the point, Haniel."

Seeing him now, it was hard to believe that this was the same angel who announced the Savior's birth and later became His guardian. _Why does He still trust him?_ Perhaps it was simply one of those things that no one but God knew the answer to. "Yes, well, I believe your anger was misdirected."

"Would you have preferred it if I'd punished the kid, then?"

"Of course not!" He was appalled that Gabriel would even suggest such a thing. "There didn't need to be any punishments at all!"

"Well then, how else are angels supposed to know what's right from wrong?"

Haniel groaned. Did Gabriel think all other angels besides himself were incompetent? "You're not even listening to me! This is exactly why I didn't want to work with you!"

"Hey, _you_ came to _me_ , remember?"

"Only after you did the same!" Haniel's fingers scraped along the arm of his chair. "You tried to kill one of the best angels Heaven has ever had, all because he wanted to save _Her_ most precious creation!"

Gabriel grimaced in disgust. "Careful with how you speak, Haniel," he said sternly. "You know the punishment for blasphemy."

"I only speak the truth, Your Glory." He addressed the Archangel mockingly. _I'm not going to let him bully me!_ "And you know what the worst part is?" There was a lump in his throat as he struggled with the next words, a clear image of Gabriel, Uriel, and Sandalphon appearing in his mind as the demon Eric set the fire. "Not a _single one_ of you showed any remorse that day, or even afterwards."

"That's not—"

"I saw the footage, Gabriel!" Haniel said quickly, angrily, all while his voice was shaking and water fell down his face—he told himself it was just a leak. "Don't you _dare_ deny it!"

He didn't, yet nor did he agree. Instead, Gabriel just sat there in silence, looking just about ready to attack him. "Don't be so dramatic," he said at last. "You're acting as though I'm Satan or something."

At this, Haniel laughed. "Satan? No, no, no. You're definitely not like him at all. Because the more I think about it, even the cruel Morningstar isn't afraid to admit to any wrongdoing."

A blaze flared in Gabriel's eyes as he clenched his fist, but rather than lunging at Haniel, he gripped onto the table as though it were some sort of replacement. Finally, he stood again, the thick tension still lingering. "I think we're done for today," he said at last, the coldness in his voice returning. "See you tomorrow."

Haniel didn't try to stop him from leaving. _Good riddance!_ he thought as Gabriel shut the door on his way out. _I don't need him, I can just do this on my own!_ Even to him, it sounded like a lie, and he was only vaguely aware of another one of his feathers darkening.


	35. Chapter 35

It was almost tempting to avoid Heaven again, but Gabriel knew the longer he stayed away, the more of a habit it was likely to become. "What is my life now?" he grumbled to himself when he returned Upstairs and passed by the two guards that stood near the main entrance. The fact that there were any still posted at all was a miracle in and of itself.

"Good day, you two," the Archangel greeted with a smile while trying to remember their names. A good leader was a well-informed one, but it wasn't his fault there were so many forgettable angels in Heaven. Most of them had yet to even encounter a single demon, much less fight one.

As expected of guards, neither of them replied, only standing at attention, swords always at the ready, and faces completely void of emotion. Normally, Gabriel would've commended them for doing their duty well, but now? Now he couldn't help but wonder if they were ignoring him because they hated him as much as everyone else did. A quick glance at their holy weapons soon filled him with unease. How long would it be before one was plunged into _him_?

 _Don't be ridiculous!_ If they _really_ wanted to get rid of him, they would've done so by now. "Right then," Gabriel said curtly as he squared his shoulders, careful not to show any fear whatsoever. "Carry on." Yet as he walked away from them, part of him was almost certain he could feel the guards' steely gazes, judging him with every step he took.

 _You're just being paranoid,_ Gabriel told himself the farther away he got. Yet his nerves did not falter. _This is temporary,_ he told himself. All of this was only temporary. He just needed to be patient. And patience was a virtue. Things would get better eventually. They just _had_ to. "Maybe I shouldn't have left," Gabriel told himself, grateful that no one was around to hear him. The more he argued with Haniel, the less either of them would get anything done. Still, did the principality have to be so harsh? Haniel's vendetta was mostly against Michael, right?

Gabriel slowed his pace as he thought of his sister again. His brave, honorable, _selfish_ sister. _Stop that!_ The Archangel quickly shook his head until the thought receded to the back of his mind. He couldn't fall for Satan's schemes, not now. Not when Heaven was still so vulnerable. He would simply have a talk with her later, and she couldn't still be mad at him, surely?

"I should probably try to work with Haniel first, though," Gabriel told himself. If only everyone would stop seeing him as a second Lucifer, but wasn't that the entire reason for him wanting to even be around the principality in the first place? "Just earn his trust and then everything will work out on its own from there." But as Gabriel continued to walk around aimlessly, thinking about just how long it would take for him and his brother's partner to get through the workload, something dawned on him: just how _did_ one go about earning the trust of someone who fancied himself a revolutionary? Haniel wasn't that much younger than Gabriel himself, but they'd never been close by any means, even in the early days of the principality's relationship with Raphael.

 _Wait a minute, that's it!_ He'd been going about this all wrong! If he wanted to get anything done, then enlisting Raphael's help was the key to his success. _What better way to earn Haniel's trust than to mend their bond?_ Gabriel thought, feeling more excited than he'd been in months. This was perfect and foolproof and... _And underhanded._ He couldn't use his own brother in such a way, could he? _A brother who constantly underestimates me!_ Gabriel quickly shook away the doubt. What did it matter if there was some sort of ulterior motive? In the end, it would all be worth it.

* * *

"Raphael! There you are!"

By the time Gabriel found his brother, the healer was walking with Assriel and Suriel and seemed to be in some sort of deep, quiet conversation with them. It took only a few seconds for them to stop and turn their heads to look at him; Gabriel was almost surprised by how delighted Raphael seemed to see him, apparently completely oblivious Assriel's hostility while Suriel didn't seem to care very much.

Raphael approached Gabriel almost immediately, a sigh of relief escaping him. "Thank God you're back," he said, hugging the younger Archangel. "Where have you been?"

Gabriel briefly hesitated, taking the time to glance over his brother's shoulder. "France," he said at last. So long as they didn't know about his stay with the enemy, he should be fine. "And Italy as of today."

"Italy?" Raphael echoed, surprised. "I thought you hated the country."

"It's... a little complicated." Clearing his throat, he added, "Point is, I needed some time away from Heaven. How have things been, by the way? No _fighting_ , I hope?" He smiled, trying to play it off as a joke, but part of him felt satisfied when he saw Raphael flinch. _How dare you hide things from me?_

Assriel immediately noticed. "Raphael!" she began, walking up to her co-worker before placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure you have plenty of questions for Gabriel, but we really do have other problems to deal with right now."

The older Archangel blinked twice and glanced at her, as though remembering what he'd been doing before Gabriel approached him. "Ah, yes. Of course, Assriel. Er, Gabriel, do you mind if we continue this conversation later?" The healer's green eyes were almost pleading. "I promise to get back to you later, but I'm _very_ busy right now."

 _Too busy for your own brother, apparently._ But Gabriel knew he couldn't be selfish. Besides, wasn't space from Raphael _exactly_ what he wanted? "Of course," he said at last with a nod. He could deal with Haniel on his own for a bit longer, surely? "Is everything okay?"

Raphael was silent, and Gabriel thought he almost saw fear in his eyes. Eventually, Suriel answered for him. "Everything is fine," she said in a monotone voice. "Just a few co-workers we've been trying to reason with."

From the way Raphael reacted, Gabriel guessed it was more than just _a few_. "And it's just the three of you handling it?"

They all nodded, though Raphael looked sad while doing so. The older Archangel then glanced at the other two healers again and then at Gabriel, his face briefly lighting up. "Although, if it's _really_ important, I can take a few minutes out of my time for you."

Assriel's eyes widened. "Raphael, I really don't think—"

Raphael quickly interrupted her, his voice sounding tense. "It's only for a few minutes, dear. I'm sure you and Suriel can come up with some solutions on your own in the meantime."

The other two healers glanced at each other and seemed like they wanted to protest, but they eventually stepped back and gave their heads a little bow, and Gabriel did his best to ignore the twinge of envy. "Very well, Raphael," Suriel said. "Just don't take too long. Assriel and I shall be waiting for you in my office."

Once the two angels were out of sight, Raphael turned back to Gabriel, grinning. "Now, I'm sure we have _much_ to discuss!" he said a little too cheerfully. "You said you were in France, right? Did you find Uriel? How is she?"

Gabriel took a step back. Maybe they _should_ have this conversation later. "Uh, no. Sorry," he said awkwardly.

Raphael cocked his head. "What were you doing in France, then?"

Gabriel shrugged. "After the bad reputation I've been receiving, I just needed some time to myself and thought France was the best option." _Although I really should check up on her and Sandalphon soon._ "You understand, right?"

His brother seemed skeptical for a brief moment, but instead of pressing further, he simply smiled and nodded. "Of course," he said at last. "And for what it's worth, I'm sorry how everyone has been treating you lately."

 _Yeah, I'm sure you are!_ Gabriel knew Raphael was trying to be sympathetic, but for some reason, the words sounded so insincere when he said them.

"Anyway," Raphael continued as he began walking and Gabriel followed, "what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

Gabriel feigned hesitance, and then said, "I'll just come right out and say it: I need you to come with me to Naples and play mediator while Haniel and I answer a ton of complaints."

This stopped Raphael in his tracks and he then stared at Gabriel as though he were crazy. "Are you seriously telling me that the only reason you want me around is because you can't get along with my partner?"

"Well, when you put it that way—"

"Absolutely not!" Raphael started to walk away, head high in defiance. "You're over a billion years old, Gabriel. Whatever problems you have with Haniel, you can deal with _yourself_."

 _Did he just call me pathetic?_ Gabriel pushed the thought away and soon followed him again. Putting him arm around him, he said, " _Come on_ , Raph! Don't you want to help your favorite baby brother?"

Raphael rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile beneath all that annoyance. "You're my _only_ baby brother," he said, struggling not to laugh. "And anyway, surely you and Haniel can get along for a few days without trying to kill each other?"

Gabriel sighed. "I already tried to be civil with him today, but he just won't _listen_! He says he wants what's best for Heaven, but he's clearly biased towards his own rank!"

"Which of us isn't?"

Gabriel ignored the comment. "And to make things worse, he practically said I was _worse_ than Satan! Can you believe him?"

A long, uncomfortable silence lingered in the air just then, too long for Gabriel's liking.

"Raphael?"

The other Archangel shook his head and glanced at Gabriel. "What do you want me to do, Gabriel?" he asked softly. "I agree that Haniel and the others are being rather harsh and you know I'll help in however way I can, but this all ultimately comes down to you and your actions."

"I know," came Gabriel's reply. "Still, it'd be great to have another angel working with us. Everyone here loves you." He hoped Raphael didn't notice the tension in his voice. "And besides, don't you _wanna_ see your boyfriend again? I know you two have been having problems, so—"

Gabriel guessed he'd struck a nerve, because the very next second, Raphael whirled on him and snapped, "Our relationship is _fine_!" He didn't seem to take any notice to his wings sprouting in his outburst as his eyes briefly turned golden. "And I don't see why you even care! I thought you hated Haniel."

"I do," Gabriel said bluntly. There was no need to lie about this. "But I know he makes you happy, so it pains me to see you both so distant from each other."

Raphael scoffed. "It _pains_ you, huh? Well, now I _know_ you're lying."

"I'm—"

"Gabriel, how much of an idiot do you think I am?" As the healer finally relaxed, hurt etched his face. "All you've ever cared about since becoming an Archangel is your reputation."

 _I_ _wonder_ _whose fault_ that _is!_ It was getting harder to keep his thoughts to himself, but Gabriel knew he couldn't risk having another argument with his brother now. But before the younger Archangel could continue, Raphael was already walking away again.

"Sorry, brother," said the healer, not sounding genuine at all. "I'll handle things here, but nothing you can say or do will make me help you with sorting out complaints. I already have enough on my plate as is."

Gabriel stayed where he was this time and growled, clenching his fist. When did Raphael get so selfish? _No matter!_ He'd just have to get Haniel to trust him some other way. _All I need to do is control my anger towards him whenever he insults me._ How hard could it be?

Gabriel immediately winced at the thought. Why should he have to tolerate any sort of verbal attack? And if things like flattery weren't going to work, then perhaps another approach would. "Raphael?" Naturally, it didn't take long to catch up to him.

The healer jumped at the sound of his brother's voice and glared at him. "My answer is still _no_ , Gabriel!" he hissed. It was almost as though he viewed the younger Archangel as a nuisance.

"Just... hear me out, okay?"

Raphael still looked irritated, but didn't leave. "I'm listening."

Gabriel sighed heavily. _Honesty is the best policy, right?_ "You're right about me being concerned with my reputation," he began. " _Right now_ , that is. I was tasked by Him to work with Haniel and address all the complaints the other angels were having. Long story short, I decided to use the opportunity to gain Haniel's trust and thought that maybe the rest of the lesser angels would follow suit once they saw a principality getting along with an Archangel who wasn't you."

Raphael blinked one, twice, three times, and then said, "Gabriel, I say this with love, but that has got to be the stupidest idea I've ever heard and it seems like you're just overcomplicating things for yourself."

Was that supposed to _sound_ loving?

The healer continued before Gabriel could reply. "But if you _did_ want to gain a principality's trust, why didn't you just go to Azira—wait, never mind!" Raphael shook his head, still disappointed. "Okay, since you seem to be so desperate, I'll bite."

"Wow, it's so great to see you care so much."

Raphael either didn't notice Gabriel's sarcasm or didn't care. "How many complaints are there?"

"Let's see... how many angels do we have now?"

Raphael's irritation almost immediately subsided, replaced with surprise. "Th-that many?" he asked. "Well, no wonder you're so reluctant to work with Haniel." Nervous laughter came from him, followed by an awkward pause.

"So, will you help?" Gabriel asked hopefully, breaking the silence.

Raphael's brow creased and he tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm... if this involves most of the Host, then do you know if this includes the virtues and other healers?"

"Uh, yeah? I would think so."

He didn't have time to tell his brother the pages were all anonymous, as the healer's eyes rounded with a little too much eagerness while grinning. "Well, why didn't you just say so in the first place?" He nearly tackled Gabriel when he hugged him tightly. "This solves _everything_! Now, just let me inform Suriel and Assriel of my future whereabouts and then we'll get started on fixing Heaven together!"

Raphael poofed away before Gabriel could get another word in. _I really hope I don't come to regret this._


	36. Chapter 36

It'd initially been unintentional in the days following Gabriel's disastrous visit, this silent yet mutual arrangement of theirs—Crowley would come to the bookshop unannounced and Michael would usually leave almost immediately after, only for the demon to be gone by the time she returned. She didn't think it was on purpose on his end, but it eventually became a bit of a habit on hers and it'd been easier to pretend he simply didn't exist at all. In a way, avoiding him had been the closest thing she had to experiencing sheer bliss.

And then Raziel left and the nightmares returned, thus making her too exhausted to go anywhere. It'd been the same one as before too, her being surrounded in a forest of fire, with no one around to help or comfort her. And even while awake, she could still feel the scorching heat pricking at her skin.

She was almost sure this was Nithael's doing, likely due to some sort of side effect of the curse. But though imagining a thousand scenarios of the various painful ways she would punish the demon certainly served as great fun these days, she couldn't find it in her heart to place the blame _entirely_ on her.

No, this time she found herself blaming Eve. And maybe Lilith as well. The first women just _had_ to listen to the other side, didn't they? It was _their_ fault so much suffering had been unleashed onto the world, even while the mortals were in their own minds. How could they have been so selfish, Lilith especially?

Of course, it didn't help that one of those same demons were within her vicinity. Nearby, Aziraphale and Crowley were speaking in hushed tones, and just the Serpent's very presence alone was enough to make Michael's blood boil. If Aziraphale wanted to spend time with him, fine. But why couldn't he just do it _away_ from her? The demon still had his own flat, didn't he? They were both lucky she hadn't tried to kill Crowley again. _Even though he very much deserves it!_ Just because he _possibly_ helped salvage part of her reputation by killing Ligur didn't mean anything.

"Coffee, Miss Goodwin?" Jane placed the mug on the table before Michael could even reply, blocking her view of the pair and snapping her back to reality. "You look like you need it."

Somehow, Michael was able to muster a smile, however weak it was. "Thank you, dear," came the reply in a tired voice. "You are an absolute blessing."

Jane instantly beamed at the praise. "Of course, ma'am! It's the least I can do after you and Mr. Fell have showed me so much hospitality."

 _Well, it wasn't like he had much of a choice._ Perhaps he would've helped the human regardless, but she still considered it to be a small victory to convince Aziraphale to do something she wanted. Now if only she could just be able to still do the same to the rest of the angels in Heaven. Perhaps if she had displayed a harsher hand prior to the Beginning, the Great Rebellion wouldn't have happened at all.

Jane gave Aziraphale and Crowley a curious glance. "So, tell me again why you don't like Mr. Crowley?" she whispered. "He seems like a perfectly decent chap if you ask me."

Michael nearly spit out her drink. "You don't say." Her voice was strained, though that was probably from the coffee she forced herself to swallow. But she couldn't blame the woman either—Crowley _did_ bring her proper autumnal clothing, after all, likely at Aziraphale's request.

Jane didn't seem to notice and simply continued. "Mr. Fell clearly loves him very much, and you trust your cousin to make his own decisions, don't you?"

"Yeah, _Goodwin_!" Crowley spat out Michael's false surname from nearby. "Ezra here can take care of himself." His tone was mocking, and looking over Jane's shoulder, the former Archangel caught the slightest hint of a smirk. Aziraphale meanwhile had his face buried in his hands, looking like he really didn't want to be caught in the middle of all this right now.

Michael glared at him. "Oh, stay out of this, you snake!" she growled, at once wishing she'd thought of a better insult. "And anyway, you know _very well_ that it isn't about that at all! As for you, _Miss Smith_ ," she added, turning back to the woman before her, "I'd much prefer it if you didn't ask such things. The matter is between Mr. Fell, Mr. Crowley, and myself."

Jane's cheeks turned red as she ducked her head. "Of course, Miss Goodwin."

"Don't be so harsh on the poor girl, cousin," Aziraphale said, giving Jane a sympathetic glance. "She will be staying here for some time, after all." _Because of you!_ he seemed to be adding silently after pausing for a bit. "And she woke up from a coma only recently. I think it's only natural for her to be curious."

Michael sniffed. "Yes, well, _too much_ curiosity isn't exactly a good thing, either. Isn't that right, _Crowley_?"

The demon bared his teeth and stood, only for Aziraphale to put a hand on his partner's chest. Perhaps it was out of love or maybe even a miracle, but a single look from the angel was enough to calm him down.

"Why don't I get us all some crêpes?" Aziraphale said a moment later, a smile plastered on his face when he turned to Michael. "Michelle, won't you come and help me?"

Michael stifled a sigh and followed Aziraphale to the closest thing he had to a kitchen. As soon as they were alone, he instantly miracled two plates of fresh crêpes into his and Michael's hands. "I'm sure I've said this once already," he began sternly, "but I would really appreciate it if you stopped goading Crowley on. Are you _trying_ to look for a fight?"

Michael scoffed. "He was the one who inserted himself into my conversation with Jane! I know you love him, Aziraphale, but—"

"Rest assured, I will have a word with him later, Michael. But I need you to do your part as well." Smiling, Aziraphale added, "And though he may deny it, Crowley really is quite kind once you get to know him."

Michael almost burst out laughing, but thought better of it. Seeing Aziraphale defend Crowley was _almost_ admirable. "I'll take your word for it," she told him. "But I say this for your own good, Aziraphale, never forget what he has done."

The angel blinked, and then made a sound that seemed to be somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. "Who says I have?" Not waiting for Michael to reply, he quickly grinned and proclaimed loudly, "Crêpes are ready!"

By the time Michael reached Jane, the woman was speaking with Crowley. _It's fine,_ she thought, trying not to scowl as she set the plate in front of them. _He'll be gone soon._

Jane nodded gratefully and quickly grabbed one, but Crowley stopped her before she began to eat. "Why don't you tell them what you just told me first?" he asked.

Michael raised an eyebrow as Jane hesitantly set the pastry down. What was Crowley talking about? Both she and Aziraphale waited for her to answer.

"Well, um..." Jane tapped her foot nervously. "Did I ever tell either of you just _how long_ I was in a coma for?"

"Er..." Aziraphale glanced at Michael, who shook her head; the woman had only been with them for three days, so she would've remembered if she told her. _But even if she had,_ Michael thought, _what does that have to do with anything?_

Jane heaved a sigh before continuing. "According to the nuns, I was in a coma for eleven years."

Aziraphale brought his hand to his mouth while Michael could only stare at her. "Oh, dear!" he exclaimed and then reached for the woman's hand.

"Don't feel bad for her, angel," Crowley growled. "She's clearly lying about the entire thing!"

"Crowley!"

Michael growled. "Can you get _any more_ insensitive?"

Jane sat a little straighter and looked at Crowley, clearly annoyed by his words. "I'm not lying!" she insisted.

The demon wasn't convinced. "You mean to tell me you woke up from an eleven-year-old coma and were _still_ able to make a quick recovery?"

"I'm sure there's a logical explanation for this!" Michael said.

"Yeah, that she's a _fraud_!"

"Enough!" Aziraphale stood and his gaze swept from Crowley to Michael. "I think we could all use a bit of fresh air, don't you think? Miss Smith... stay here and enjoy the crêpes." He pushed in his chair and walked towards the front door, and Crowley and Michael followed, with the former Archangel glaring at him the entire time.

"What the hell, Crowley!?" Michael said as soon as they were right outside the bookshop. "You can't just accuse people without evidence!"

"Michael's right, dear," Aziraphale said gently, surprising her only slightly with his agreement.

"Oh, come on!" Crowley gestured a hand towards the shop. "You have to at least admit this is all a _little_ suspicious. I'm pretty sure she wasn't lying about being homeless, but the coma?"

"Hmm..." Aziraphale glanced at his home and then to Crowley. "I suppose you have a point."

This time, Michael laughed. "Yes, of course _you'd_ agree with him!" Couldn't Aziraphale think for himself for once? "And anyway, have you already forgotten what Raziel said?"

"He could've been lying," Crowley pointed out.

"And just what would he have to gain from doing such a thing?" Michael retorted sharply. _You're certainly one to talk about spreading lies, demon!_ "Clearly whatever happened to her wasn't normal."

"You think they're both telling the truth, then?" Aziraphale asked.

"I do!" Michael said, feeling almost defiant. "At the very least, we should gather more evidence before we do anything else first."

Crowley groaned. "I know you can't see it, but I'm rolling my eyes here!" After a moment, he faced Aziraphale. "It's _your_ shop, angel. What do you want to do?"

The uncertainty in the principality's eyes told Michael everything. _How is this pansy Haniel's champion?_ She'd lost count of just how many times she'd thought this.

"I... believe I'm with Michael on this one." She felt satisfied as Aziraphale said this, though it was clear he didn't want to side against his partner. "And if she did indeed somehow get her hands on the water, then we must figure out _how_. Who knows how many other humans have had access to such a powerful thing?"

"And for how long," Michael added. But Azrael would've informed her if there'd been some sort of breach between Earth and the Afterlives, surely? Strange he may be, Death wasn't the type to hide something this potentially dangerous, especially when the consequences could possibly end up being dire for both sides. _Unless he somehow didn't know._ But Michael wasn't completely satisfied with that theory, either. All the unfortunate implications such a thing would entail...

Her mind briefly raced back to Nithael, and then to her own recent forgetfulness. _The curse had been premeditated,_ Michael reminded herself, stomach churning with dread. Could the _demon_ have had something to do with this? And if so, why?

Crowley crossed his arms and looked like he wanted to argue again, but instead said, "Fine. But the sooner we get this mystery solved, the better."

Aziraphale's eyes were immediately alight with excitement. "You're absolutely right, dearest! And _you're_ going to help me. Why, we'll be just like Holmes and Watson!"

"You know this isn't a murder mystery, right?"

Aziraphale simply ignored him and said with glee, "Just give me a minute to get my deerstalker cap!"

Michael glanced at Crowley as Aziraphale went back inside. "Since when does he wear deerstalker caps?"

The demon laughed, one that was filled with affection for the angel. "Ever heard of Sherlock Holmes?" he asked. "Angel's had it since at least the 1900s, I think. I'm guessing he's been reading books from that Doyle guy again?"

Michael wasn't sure if he was actually expecting an answer, though it wasn't like she was able to give him one anyway. She simply didn't care enough for Aziraphale to ask what he'd been reading lately.

The angel returned not a moment later, and Michael tried not to laugh—not only was he wearing a deerstalker cap, but a matching coat as well. Despite herself, she had to admit that everything about it made Aziraphale look rather adorable.

"Nice costume, angel," Crowley said, smirking. "All that's missing is a smoke pipe, but I'm pretty sure Halloween is still a few weeks away."

In his excitement, Aziraphale once again ignored his partner's comment as he took the demon's hand into his. "Come, Crowley! The game is afoot! And we won't rest until this mystery has been solved."

Crowley made a face. "We won't?" By now, he was practically being dragged away by Aziraphale. "Wait a minute, Aziraphale! Let's talk about this first!"

Michael laughed and waved them both goodbye when Crowley looked back. "Take _as much time_ as you need, you two!" she said as loud as she could, not caring if Aziraphale actually heard her. Because whether he realized it or not, the angel had just done her an immense favor.


	37. Chapter 37

There were times— _alot_ of times, really—in which Crowley simply couldn't understand Aziraphale. "I still say the woman is lying," he grumbled as _Bohemian Rhapsody_ started to play.

The angel was of course far more optimistic than he was. "Well, we won't know for sure until we gather more information!" Aziraphale said, gripping onto his cap like a vice. "Also, dearest, can't you slow down just a bit?"

"Now why would I do that?"

The humans did the answering for him as the Bentley kept speeding by.

"SLOW DOWN, WANKER!"

"YOU'RE A DANGER TO SOCIETY!"

Crowley chuckled. Just because he didn't work for Hell anymore didn't mean he had to stop being a demon. "Look, angel, _my_ driving is perfectly fine as far as I'm concerned. It's _everyone else_ who needs to catch up."

"Yes, we both know you're always right, my dear." Beneath Aziraphale's sarcasm lay affection as the angel pecked his cheek, and not for the first time did Crowley wonder how he ever got so lucky as to meet and fall in love with the most wonderful being in the entire universe. And more importantly, for that same being to feel the same way.

 _Sending me to the Garden was the one good thing Satan ever did to me._ Even back in Heaven, he sensed there was something off when the Lucifer kept encouraging his interest in star making; at the time, he didn't question it, but now? _I should've known he was just_ _using_ _me._ At least after the Fall, he became more transparent about it. And far more cruel.

Aziraphale spoke again, interrupting him from his thoughts. "But seriously, please slow down. I really don't feel like getting discorporated again."

Crowley groaned as the Bentley slowed her pace until he was driving _just above_ the speed limit. "I hate it when you're right." But in truth, it was sometimes hard to forget how different everything was now. It wasn't that he missed Hell, but no longer having to be on constant alert after being afraid of his superiors for so long would certainly take some time to get used to. Every time he got into the vehicle, he almost expected to hear Satan or Dagon talking to him through the radio again.

He snapped out of his thoughts in time to see Aziraphale having the audacity to smile a self-congratulatory smile. "Thank you, Crowley," the angel said, leg brushing against his as his shoulders relaxed. "Besides, we can't really afford to miss anything, can we? Even the _smallest detail_ could be of great importance."

Crowley gave Aziraphale a quick once-over. "You're way too committed to this whole detective thing, you know that?" he said with a laugh. But this passion only made him love the angel even more. "Fine then, _Holmes_. Any idea on where we should start?"

Aziraphale pondered this for a moment. "Hm. I don't suppose you know of any other Satanic orders besides St. Beryl?"

Crowley nearly hit the brake. " _Absolutely not_ , Aziraphale! I can think of a whole slew of reasons for why that'd be a horrible idea!" Extending one finger, the demon continued before his partner could protest. "For one, I _don't_ know any other orders and I'm almost offended you would think that all followers of Satan know each other."

"Oh, well I'm—"

"Second, even if I _did_ , I most certainly wouldn't want to go to another one! You never know who could be watching, angel!"

"Hell keeps that close of an eye on Satanists?"

"Well, no, but there's a first time for everything!" _Especially now that I've betrayed them._ It was simply too risky. "So, got any better ideas? Because if not, I'm perfectly happy with turning back and calling it a day."

Aziraphale smiled. "Nice try, Crowley. But I suppose I see your point." Then the angel was silent, looking deep in thought again as he rubbed his chin and tapped his foot. "So if going to a Satanic church won't work, then... Oh!" He grinned and snapped his fingers. "I got it! What about Adam?"

Crowley glanced at him. "What _about_ Adam?"

"Doesn't he still have his powers?" After Aziraphale paused, Crowley realized he was genuinely asking. "Perhaps he can undo the water's effects."

"Assuming Adam even still _has_ his powers at all," Crowley replied. And he was sure he did, but he doubted the boy was still as powerful as he'd been before everything changed. "And also assuming the woman really _did_ drink Lethe water, which, as we both know, should be completely impossible for the living to obtain."

"More reason for us to look into this, Crowley," Aziraphale said. "And what do we really have left to lose with a little investigation? The sooner we get to the bottom of this, the better."

"And the sooner the human gets out of your shop," Crowley added with a bit of smugness. "Don't act like you're actually _happy_ over what Michael's been doing."

"Er... I... I would gladly help anyone in need, Crowley." The words couldn't have sounded more forced even if Aziraphale tried. "And it helps to keep in mind that this is all only temporary." His voice was barely a whisper by the time he finished talking, as though he were trying to convince himself more than the demon beside him.

"Zira..." Crowley trailed off as he laced his fingers with Aziraphale. He hated seeing his angel so distressed, and he found himself hating Heaven all the more. None of this would've ever happened if they'd just left the two of them alone after the failed Apocalypse.

"I-it's fine, Crowley. _I'm_ fine. Truly." He smiled sadly as he kissed Crowley's hand. "But your concern is much appreciated, dearest."

Crowley stifled a sigh. Clearly he wasn't going to get anywhere with prying. _Best to just let him get it out when he's ready._ "If you say so, angel."

Aziraphale nodded appreciatively. "Thank you, Crowley." After an awkward moment, he cleared his throat and said, "But while we're still on the subject, I believe now would be a good time to discuss your behavior from earlier."

This time, Crowley really did hit the brake, causing Aziraphale's cap to fall off. "Hold on, _my_ behavior? What did _I_ do?"

Aziraphale huffed as he readjusted the accessory. "Well, you interrupted Michael's conversation with Miss Jane, for one thing. Unnecessarily so, I might add."

"With good reason!"

" _And_ you also accused the woman of lying right in front of her."

"I thought it was best to get it out in the open!"

"You didn't think there'd be denial?" Aziraphale asked, quirking an eyebrow. "My point is, dearest, if you're going to keep visiting my shop, then I advise you to at least _try_ to get along with my guests. And Michael is going to be here for awhile, so I need to keep the peace."

"And you think _she'll_ do the same thing?" Crowley knew Michael to be bias, stubborn, and impulsive; the thought of her at least tolerating him—or _any_ demon, for that matter—seemed almost laughable. But at least she was mostly harmless now compared to before.

"I've spoken to her a few times about her on behavior already," Aziraphale said. "Including today. Surely she'll have to get it one of these days, right?" Once again, it seemed like the angel was speaking more to himself rather than Crowley.

He wanted to disagree, to tell Aziraphale that Michael was a lost cause if talking to her hadn't already worked the first few times... until he reminded himself that there wasn't really much of a choice, not unless the angel started to avoid the bookshop entirely, which was like expecting a dolphin to leave the water. _Besides,_ Crowley thought as he put a comforting arm around his partner, _he can be just as stubborn._ There was no reason to continue this conversation any further.

For now, at least.

"Alright, angel," he said at last. "I'll try to be—ugh— _nice_!" Even now, he still hated that four-letter-word. Especially when Michael hadn't even done much to deserve his compassion anyway. "But no promises when she attacks first."

Aziraphale smiled—a genuine one this time—and then he laughed as he caressed Crowley's cheek. "That's all I ask."

Crowley leaned into the touch, making sure to savor the moment as Aziraphale pressed his forehead against his. Who knew that being threatened with execution could put things into a brand new perspective? "What did I do to deserve you?"

"I could ask you the same," Aziraphale said, his voice thick with affection as he nuzzled Crowley's nose with his own. "I love you _so much_ , dearest."

"And I you," Crowley replied, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale's neck. "More than you can possibly imagine."

 _Love._ Now _that_ was one four-letter-word he would never get tired of liking, especially if it came from Aziraphale's soft lips—the same ones that just happened to be on his right now. Kissing was no longer as awkward as it'd been when they first began dating, and this one in particular somehow managed to be both sweet and full of passion and—

"GET A MOVE ON, ARSEHOLES!"

And being done in the middle of the road.

Jane. Adam. Right.

Aziraphale's face was as red as a tomato by the time he faced the driver who'd dared to interrupt them. "So very sorry, sir!" he said as loudly as he could. "Won't happen again!"

Crowley glanced as his partner, amused. "Come now, angel. Be reasonable here."

Despite his glare, Aziraphale clearly wasn't putting in much of an effort of seem annoyed or angry, instead laughing not long after. He opened his mouth to speak, until the driver behind them yelled a particularly obscene word at them.

Crowley gripped the wheel tightly, anticipating for the light to change as he tapped the wheel. Perhaps before, he would've just somehow punished the bigot himself, but now, he knew doing too much would just attract Downstairs' attention. The only comfort he had was knowing that there was literally a special place in Hell for people like that.

"Let's go, Crowley," Aziraphale said, his voice just a little too casual as he folded his hands neatly in front of him. "Light's changed."

Crowley briefly glanced at him and was about to ask if he was okay, when he heard a scream coming from the vehicle behind him. As the Bentley began to drive away, the demon looked back to see the driver being splattered with what appeared to be oil, the airbag suddenly coming out and squishing him not long after. Soon enough, the hood of the car kept on opening and closing while music started blasting loudly from the human's own radio, so much so that it practically drowned out Freddie Mercury.

"Eyes on the road, dear," Aziraphale reminded him, having a perfectly calm and innocent expression on his face.

Crowley was too busy feeling impressed to argue. And perhaps also just a _little_ concerned. Aziraphale really _was_ more of a bastard than he liked to give himself credit for, and he loved him all the more for it. "Hey, angel?" the demon began once they were far enough away.

"Hm?"

"Remind me to never make you angry."


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't expecting for this one to be as long as it is. Also, it's a little funny that today's chapter is dedicated to Michael, considering yesterday was [Michaelmas](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michaelmas)

"I'm beginning to see why you don't like Mr. Crowley very much."

It was then Michael realized that she very much liked the feeling of vindication. But now wasn't the time to be feeling smug. "Well, I'm terribly sorry he treated you so poorly just now," she said before taking a bite out of her crêpe. "But don't you worry, dove. _I_ know you're telling the truth. And so does Mr. Fell."

Jane smiled that shy smile Michael had quickly come to grow accustomed to, but now there was a glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes as well. "Well, it's nice to see _someone_ believes me."

"But of course, dear." And yet, much as Michael wanted to disagree with the demon who somehow always found a way to ruin everything, she couldn't deny that _maybe_ he had a point. _If only Raphael were here..._ But she had yet to see her second younger brother, and after Gabriel's own visit last month, perhaps that was a good thing. Digging up old wounds _once_ had been more than enough.

After a pause, Jane spoke again. "So, I know _you_ don't approve of the relationship, but what about the rest of your family?"

Michael took another sip of her coffee before answering. "Well, I would _hope_ the others have enough sense in them to agree with me." Then again, what even _did_ count as _sense_ these days? Since Armageddon had been prevented, it seemed like the entire universe had gone mad. "I know for a fact that at least my youngest brother and sister share my views." Well, and Sandalphon, but he hardly counted as a sibling as far as Michael was concerned.

"Well, what about Mr. Fell's parents?" Jane asked. "How did they feel about it?"

 _Parents?_ The word was almost foreign to Michael. Technically, that was God, but she couldn't very well tell the human that, could she? "Mother's opinion on the matter has remained silent." She was surprised how easy it'd been to refer to the Almighty so informally. _When was the last time I called Her_ Mother _? Or even_ Father _?_ After giving it some thought, the former Archangel soon realized she couldn't recall. And she didn't think it was just because of the curse, either. _Oh, what does it even matter?_ The Lord was her boss, first and foremost. Sentimentality was something she simply couldn't afford to feel. Not anymore.

Jane tilted her head, confused. "I thought Mr. Fell was your cousin?"

 _Idiot!_ "He's also my adopted brother!" Michael quickly replied. In a more somber tone, she added, "The poor thing lost his biological parents at the tender age of twelve, and my mother was only too happy to raise him as her own until he was able to inherit this shop later on in life."

The woman's eyes grew large with pity. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be, it was a long time ago." Sighing, Michael added, "Anyway, I'm sure you can guess how Ezra turned out."

"He... became a bookshop owner?"

"He became a disappointment!"

Jane glanced at the door, as though she were expecting Aziraphale to walk through at any moment. "That's a... bit harsh, don't you think?"

Michael shrugged. "Perhaps, but I only speak the truth."

"Why live with him, then?" There was a challenge in Jane's voice, one Michael couldn't help but both admire yet somehow still despise.

 _Looks like there's fire in this girl after all._ "It's... complicated," she told the human. "But long story short, the employees at my family's... law firm were quite unhappy with how my siblings and I were running things and essentially started a coup."

Jane actually had the audacity to laugh. "A _coup_?"

"It's alot less funny than it sounds," Michael said drily. "Anyway, I was ousted, so my second youngest brother is now in charge." Or at least she _hoped_ Raphael was now in charge. _Probably doing a much better job than me!_ she thought bitterly.

"Second youngest?" Jane echoed. "What happened to your first brother?"

Michael hesitated and silently cursed herself. Why had she been _that_ specific? And how was she ever going to explain what happened to Lucifer without giving too much away? _Oh_ _, I know!_ "He's dead to me."

Jane seemed surprised by how casually she spoke. "That bad?"

Michael nodded. "Broke poor Papa's heart after he tried to take over by force, and then the snake ended up starting his own firm not long after." Laughing a bitter laugh, she added, "And you know what the worst part is? At least one of our branches share a building here in England."

"You're joking!"

"I wish I was." It'd been Gabriel's idea in order to prevent a potential territory dispute, and Michael still wasn't entirely sure if she'd made the right choice to agree with such a decision. "Thankfully, it's big enough that we don't have to interact much unless it's absolutely necessary." _Such as informing the other side of one or two renegades._

But then again, Ligur might still be alive if she'd just kept her mouth shut.

"Do you miss him?"

The question caught Michael by surprise. "Huh?"

"Your brother," Jane said. "Do you miss being close to him?"

Michael hesitated, and she didn't know why. She _didn't_ miss him! Lucifer had been arrogant even as an angel, and eventually became cold and cruel just before he rebelled.

He tried to kill Gabriel.

He tried to kill _her_.

Why would she miss someone like that?

And why were her eyes watering?

"I don't!" Michael said at last, blinking away the incoming tears. "He chose his path, and I chose mine."

"But—"

" _Anyway_ , Crowley worked for my brother's firm until he quit recently," Michael continued as the grief quickly subsided. _Why am I feeling like this now?_ "Ezra on the other hand was one of our best employees. Why, I've lost count of just how many commendations he's received." She couldn't help but feel wistful; Aziraphale had been an utter failure in Eden, but had done every other assignment well enough—sometimes even better than expected. Perhaps he would've even made it to seraph one day.

Jane grinned. "Oh, and let me guess! They ended up falling in love, two people from rival groups! Just like in _Romeo and Juliet_ , but without the dying."

 _Unfortunately._ Michael couldn't help but frown at the mention of the Bard's famous play. "Yet with all of the foolishness," she added. She was almost certain that angels and demons developing feelings for each other wasn't all too uncommon, and perhaps understandably so—in her experience, there was a certain nostalgic feeling to it—but if the photographs had been anything to go by, neither Aziraphale nor Crowley had bothered to be very discreet about it.

After a moment, Michael shook her head. "Forgive me, Jane, but I grow weary of this conversation," she said with a yawn for emphasis.

Jane's face fell. "Still tired?"

"Quite so, sweet," was the reply. "Would you mind cleaning up? Then if Mr. Fell isn't back yet, you can help me with organizing the shelves."

Jane nodded respectfully. "Of course, Miss Goodwin. May you rest well."

* * *

The forest didn't return, yet Michael was still overcome with dread when she saw the familiar red sky and caught the scent of smoke nearby, so strong that she actually began to feel nauseous this time. Why was Nithael so insistent on torturing her this way?

 _Look at it this way,_ the former Archangel told herself, staying where she was as she tried to steady her breathing, _the more I'm exposed to it, the sooner I'll get over my fear._ Exposure therapy, she believed it was called. She wouldn't let Nithael win.

"Oh, it worked!"

 _Well, speak of the devil._ Michael turned around in time to see the former principality giving her a cheeky grin. "Oh good God, you're invading my _dreams_ now too?" Was there no escape?

Nithael laughed as she approached her. " _Dreams_? Is that what you think this is, commander?"

Michael opened her mouth and was about to ask her to elaborate, only to close it again and cover it with her shirt while clutching her stomach as bile threatened to come up. _What_ _in the world?_ she thought, catching whiff of a putrid smell.

The smell of Death.

Nithael smirked and lightly touched Michael's cheek. "Looking a little green there, dearie. Tell me, shall I get you anything?"

All Michael could do was glare at her. _Is this it? If this isn't a dream, then did she kill me?_ Her blood ran cold at the thought as she surveyed the area, ash beginning to fall from the sky. This didn't look like the pristine Judgement Hall at all, or even the gray waiting rooms of Purgatory, did they have the familiar warmness of Heaven.

Which only meant—

"Oh, do dry those eyes, Michael! I simply can't _stand_ seeing you cry." A handkerchief appeared in Nithael's hand before she handed it to her enemy. "Here you go, pet."

 _Pet?_ Michael did her best to ignore the stinging in her eyes as she blinked away the tears. "You have some nerve, you fiendish, insufferable—" She was cut off by her own coughing, and she held the piece of cloth close to her mouth.

Nithael rolled her eyes. "Again, think of better insults if you're going to use them!" she said, seeming genuinely annoyed. "And anyway, we're not in Hell, if that's what you were thinking."

Michael narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"We're not! And if we were, I'd certainly be alot more discreet about it first."

Michael mulled over the demon's words for a moment. _Satan loves his theatrics,_ she reminded herself. Torturing someone outright had always been more Samael's style anyway, and not for the first time did Michael find herself thanking God and the rest of the universe that the closest thing her brother had to a best friend was long dead.

As though sensing the tension ebbing away, Nithael smiled a gentle smile. "That's better. Now come with me. I think you're just about to arrive."

_Wait, what?_

Before Michael could ask what she'd meant, Nithael grabbed hold of her hand and in an instant, what Michael saw next filled her with horror. Just below the ledge from where she stood was a stream of lava mercilessly destroying everything in sight, with frightened humans and animals alike trying to escape nature's wrath. And the humans were perhaps the most curious part of all: the clothes they wore weren't modern at all. In fact, everything about the attire—from the togas and tunics and flat soled footwear—seemed almost... _Roman_.

 _Have we traveled back in time?_ The thought was gone as quickly as it had come. No one had that kind of power, and even if Satan _did_ somehow obtain it, he most certainly wouldn't have used it to send her to ancient times first.

Nithael tugged at Michael's sleeve, and pointed to something glowing just above the volcano. "Well, weren't _you_ dramatic back then."

"Um..." Michael tilted her head. What exactly was she supposed to be looking at?

Nithael looked at her a moment later. "Oh, right. I keep forgetting humans have terrible eyesight." She then snapped her fingers, and immediately, the two were taken closer to where the light was, its brightness almost blinding. But as Michael blinked rapidly to adjust her eyes and was just barely able to make out a silhouette, she remembered how close it was to the volcano.

Nithael must've noticed her growing fear, because then she said, "Relax, Michael. Nothing can hurt you while we're in your memories."

The former angel stared at her in disbelief. _Memories?_ "That doesn't make any sense," Michael said, lifting the handkerchief just slightly away from her mouth. "My body—"

"—is probably just reacting negatively to the sight of smoke and ash," Nithael said. "Of course, I'm not a healer, but you already have a fear of fire, don't you?" She said this so smugly that Michael wanted to slap her.

So she did, or would've, had Nithael not grabbed hold of Michael's wrist in a tight grip without even looking at her. "I'd think twice, if I were you," she said, her voice turning cold. "Do you really think it to be wise to assault a demon? And in your current state, no less?"

Michael forced herself to relax, catching the implication at once. _She could easily make things worse for me._ "My apologies, Nithael. It won't happen again."

"Hm." Nithael let her go not a moment longer. "See that it doesn't, _mortal_."

Michael rubbed her wrist and awkwardly cleared her throat. "At least tell me why we're here. I didn't even know demons could _look_ into memories!" _And perhaps take them away?_

Nithael shrugged. "We can't. Not unless that demon and human are bound. Which we technically are, what with that deal we made and all." Glancing at her with an almost concerned expression, she said, "Don't tell me you've forgotten."

 _I've been trying to!_ "I gave you the holy water, didn't I?" Michael growled, rubbing her wrist again at the reminder. "And I fail to see how—"

"Shh!" Nithael placed a finger to Michael's mouth, that cat-like grin of hers returning. "It's starting!"

The light finally faded as Nithael said this, replaced with a figure dressed in white as they flew just above the volcano, with six set of fiery wings beating against the red sky. Soon, the flames died down, and the feathers turned to gold, silver shimmering at the tips.

A knot formed at the pit of Michael's stomach just then as she stared at the wings. Because they belonged to _her_ —the very same wings she'd earned after defeating Lucifer. And for the first time since becoming human, Michael became aware their absence as she felt a sudden coldness on her back despite all the heat.

 _But I've never even been near a volcano before,_ she thought, trying to distract herself. She was about to say such aloud, until she noticed something coming towards them. Another angel, she guessed, this one dressed more like an average Roman citizen than a soldier of the Lord as he tried to fly as fast as he could.

 _"You sure took your time,"_ said the Michael from the past in an impatient tone.

 _"I... I apologize... commander,"_ said the angel between pants. _"I was—"_

_"I care not for your excuses, Haniel!"_

_Haniel?_ Michael's eyes widened as she stared at the meek angel. _It can't be!_ But as she took a few steps forward, she realized it was indeed the head principality—same olive face, same shoulder-length brown hair, same green eyes. But there was a confidence he was lacking. It was no wonder she didn't recognize him.

 _Wait a minute... Roman civilization, volcano..._ And Haniel was here, looking so unlike his current self. "Nithael," Michael began, slowly turning her head towards the demon. "Are we in Pompeii?"

The demon didn't answer, her gaze focused intently on the past.

 _"O-of course, commander,"_ Past Haniel said, his gaze lowered. _"Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of being graced with your presence?"_

Beside the Michael of the present, Nithael gagged. "Oh, come off it, Haniel! Really, and I thought _my_ side was filled with ass-kissers."

The former angel silently agreed. Did such talk really not bother her back then? She almost expected for Past Haniel to bow to her.

Past Michael however didn't seem to give a damn about it. _"In case you haven't noticed, your town is being destroyed."_

 _"Er..."_ Past Haniel briefly glanced downward. _"I have, Your Glory. In fact, I was helping the humans escape before you arrived and—"_

_"Did you know a demon was involved?"_

Past Haniel froze and then stood a little straighter. _"I... yes. Yes, I did. But I did my best to stop him!"_

_"Well, your best clearly wasn't good enough!"_

Michael winced at the venom in her past self's voice and moved closer to her demonic companion. "Please, Nithael," she whispered. "Let's just leave."

Mischief glimmered in the demon's eyes. "And miss the best part? Oh, who am I kidding? I'm sure they're _all_ the best part!" She gave a shrill laugh, and Michael made a fist to stop herself from trying to attack her again.

_"It's not my fault!"_

_"Then whose fault is it?"_

_Not his!_ Had she really been so cruel as to blame an angel for a _demon's_ chaos?

Past Haniel remained silent, grief in his eyes. He looked to be on the verge of tears. _"I'm sorry. Please forgive me."_

 _"Forgive you?"_ Past Michael sneered. _"You ghastly_ _ingrate_ _! Why in God's name would I do that? It's because of_ your _failure that all these people are suffering!_ Dying! _How do you think Azrael feels about all this?"_

Past Haniel ducked his head as though he'd just been struck.

Nithael laughed again. "So _this_ is who Satan gets his love for drama from."

This caused Michael to glare at her. "Don't you _dare_ compare me to him!"

"You misunderstand me, commander," Nithael said, a smirk forming on her lips. "Quite frankly, I think you're worse." A pen and notepad then appeared in her hands before Michael could defend herself. "Let's see... Subject is disturbed at seeing her past self."

Michael growled. "Subject will make you regret it if you don't get me out of here!"

Nithael briefly glanced up and then returned her gaze to her writing. "Subject is currently tetchy."

"I hope you know I'm going to kill you one of these days."

The demon snorted, but said nothing more.

 _What's even the point of this?_ Michael thought as she turned back to the past versions of her and her brother's partner. _Wait,_ _where_ is _Raphael?_ He was still on probation during this time, wasn't he?

 _"Where is Raphael?"_ Past Michael echoed her current self's thoughts. _"I thought you were to watch over him."_

Past Haniel opened his mouth, only for another to speak for him.

 _"I'm here, sister."_ Past Raphael landed between the two angels, a protective look in his eyes as he used his wings to shield Past Haniel from the Archangel—the relationship had been new, then. _"I was tending to the survivors."_

Past Michael seemed annoyed by this. _"Well, if you two_ _have_ _time to help the humans, then surely you had time to chase down the demon that did this?"_

The other two angels simply glanced at each other, though Past Haniel seemed much more nervous than his partner did.

Past Michael gave an exasperated sigh. _"I'll take that as a no, then. As for you, Haniel, we must discuss your punishment. How do you feel about a six-month clipping?"_

Michael grimaced in disgust at her past self's casual tone, and even Nithael hissed at the suggestion.

 _"Punishment?"_ Past Raphael was shocked. _"Whatever for? He's done nothing wrong!"_

_"He failed his duty."_

_"Which wasn't his fault! And he most certainly doesn't deserve a_ clipping _of all things!"_

Past Haniel looked on in silence, and for the first time, Michael noticed the love and admiration brightening his eyes when he looked at Past Raphael while smiling shyly.

Nithael echoed Michael's thoughts aloud. "Ah, so _here's_ where it starts! Oh, how I _love_ history!"

 _"I don't think you get to have a say in this, brother,"_ the head Archangel said coldly. Meaningfully. And after this, his probation—his _banishment_ —would last longer.

_Because I was spiteful._

But the guilt was gone almost immediately. _Because he clearly hadn't learned to just mind his own!_ And perhaps she'd been too harsh, but Christianity's rise had resulted in demons running amok at this time and Raphael was second only to her in slayings. So naturally, making him stay on Earth for longer than intended was the only logical option. _What do I have to feel sorry for?_

 _"I-it's okay, Raphael,"_ Past Haniel said. _"Just go and tend to the wounded."_

The healer seemed reluctant, until the principality gave his hand a gentle squeeze. _"Whatever you think is best, love."_ He then kissed his partner's cheek and took flight, but not before shooting his sister one final glare.

Nithael scoffed, reminding Michael of her presence. "I still think he can do better."

"Raphael?"

"No, _Haniel_!"

Michael rolled her eyes. What did demons know about love anyway?

"Hm..." Nithael tapped her pen on her chin thoughtfully. "Doesn't look like you approved, either."

Michael reluctantly turned her attention back to her past self, and frowned when she was the blatant disapproval. What had been wrong with her?

 _"I see my brother has grown fond of you,"_ said the Archangel, her sibling just barely a speck in the distance now.

Past Haniel's nervousness returned, his cheeks turning red, and it wasn't just from being near Mount Vesuvius. _"I suppose..."_

_"And do you feel the same?"_

A dumb, lovestruck grin soon crossed the principality's face, all formality forgotten in an instant. _"I do, Michael. Very,_ very _much."_

"Oh, he had it _bad_ back then," Nithael said while laughing, and even Michael couldn't help but feel amused.

Her past self however was not. _"Hm. Interesting."_

Past Haniel's smile faded. _"Interesting? What do you mean?"_

 _"It's just..."_ She sighed and gently patted Haniel's cheek, a ghost of a smile of her lips. _"Do be mindful of your rank, Haniel. And his. You two may be equal now, but..."_

The principality was undeterred by her words. _"I value your concern, Michael,"_ he began, a hint of irritation in his voice, _"but I'm certain Raphael and I will be just fine."_

 _"Hmph!"_ The Archangel removed her hand. _"Don't say I didn't warn you, then. Now,"_ she continued as she miracled a map into her hands, _"I suppose I_ can _give you a second chance. If you still want it."_

Past Haniel gasped in delight. _"Truly? Oh, thank you, Your Glory! You are kind and fair."_

"Aaaand he's back!" Nithael grumbled, glaring at the Michael from the present. "I hope you're happy with yourself!"

"I'll have you know, I'm just as appalled as you are!"

"Yeah, sure you are."

Michael bit back a retort. This couldn't go on for much longer, surely?

Past Haniel's wings were fluttering with excitement by the time Michael turned back to the scene, and a pang hit her chest. If she still remembered correctly, it wasn't going to last. _"May I go to Asia this time?"_ he asked. _"Mayhap China? Or Japan?"_

 _"Patience is a virtue, little one,"_ was the teasing, motherly reply. _"Just give me a minute to decide."_ But it was a lie. The location had been picked the moment the destruction began. The Archangel trailed her finger across the map until she came to a stop. _"Oh! How about the capital? You can help the Senate."_

Any joy the principality had in him was immediately crushed. _"T-the Senate, Your Glory?_ _"_ Though Nero had been long dead by this point, many of the angels who oversaw Italia still had no desire to interact with any of Rome's politicians if they could help it. Until now, Haniel had been no exception.

Past Michael ignored his reluctance with barely disguised glee. _"But of course!"_ Resting a hand on his shoulder, she said, _"You should consider this to be a great honor, Haniel. You'll be helping us spread Her Word by being so close to such... important humans!"_

_"But—"_

_"No buts! And you don't want to displease Her, do you?_ _"_

Past Haniel stared at her for several seconds and his face twitched ever-so-slightly, something Michael only noticed just now. _"Of course not, Your Glory."_ If only she'd caught the bitterness in his voice at the time as well. Or perhaps she had and simply didn't care.

_"Wonderful! I shall send you further instructions tomorrow."_

The principality nodded sternly before spreading his wings to fly away. And as he did this, as the older version of her watched on with a satisfied look on her face, Michael realized with dread that it'd been at that moment she had sealed her fate.


	39. Chapter 39

Aziraphale considered it luck that they found Adam and his friends riding their bicycles almost as soon as they entered Tadfield, the little hellhound trailing not far behind its owner.

 _Not a hellhound,_ he reminded himself as he stepped out of the Bentley. _Not anymore, technically._ And technically, Adam was no longer the Antichrist, either. They were both to be considered a mostly regular dog and a mostly regular boy. And yet, children were children, so the chances of Adam having kept his powers were likely, but they were probably now equal to that of an average cambion's at best—limited and nowhere near as wild as they'd been before he fixed things.

Hopefully it would be enough.

Adam beamed as soon as he saw them and peddled faster. "See, mates? I'd told you they'd come!"

"Yeah, yeah, Adam," said the girl— _Pepper_ , Aziraphale recalled—in a playful tone.

So the boy still had precognition. _Perhaps he can tell me if Michael will become an angel sooner._ "Hello there, children!" Aziraphale said in a cheerful voice while Crowley gave them a brisk nod as he leaned against the Bentley.

"What brings you both to Tadfield?" Adam asked after coming to a stop. "Nice hat, by the way, Aziraphale."

Aziraphale smiled at the compliment while Crowley said whilst smirking, "What, can't we visit our favorite godson?"

"I'm your _only_ godson."

Neither of them had ever mentioned Warlock to him yet; Aziraphale was _sure_ that Crowley missed the false Antichrist, but even when it was just between the two of them, the demon would simply change the subject everytime the angel tried to bring it up. Perhaps it was best to just leave in the past, but that didn't seem satisfying, either.

But there would be time to deal with that later.

"Actually, Adam," Aziraphale began, "Crowley and I have a bit of a favor to ask you." He quickly glanced at the the boy's three friends—it simply wouldn't do well to get them involved in any more of this supernatural business. "But we must speak with you alone."

Adam followed his gaze. "Whatever you have to say to me, you can say it in front of my friends."

The other children immediately chimed in.

"And whatever it is, we can help!" said the one with the spectacles— _Wensleydale_ , a determined look in his eyes.

"Please!" said the ice-cream-loving one— _Brian_ —his own eyes wide. "Adam's our friend."

Pepper joined in as well. "And if the world needs saving again... well, we already have _tons_ experience with _that_ , don't we?"

Aziraphale laughed softly; their loyalty to each other was certainly commendable. "You're all very sweet, my dears, but... um..."

To his relief, Crowley took over. "Look, kids, it's great you want to support your friend here, but this really doesn't concern any of you _except_ Adam. Uh... Antichrist business and all that."

For just a second, Aziraphale thought he saw Adam flinch. Did Crowley really have to phrase it like _that_? _The poor dear must still_ _be_ _terrified after nearly getting killed by his own... not-father._ "It's not anything _too_ serious, though!" the angel said in an attempt to be comforting. The last thing they needed was to scare the boy away. "We just need you to help us with something."

But Pepper was smart for her age. "If it's not that serious, then why do we have to leave?" she asked. "At the very least, we can tell Adam's parents about it if he's going to be late."

 _Somehow, I doubt they'll believe you,_ Aziraphale thought.

" _Are_ we going out of Tadfield?" Adam asked. "Because I don't really feel like getting grounded again."

Right. Because at the end of the day, this child was still, well, a child. With normal parents and everything, thank the Lord. But Tadfield was still about sixty-five kilometers away from Soho.

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley. Perhaps they should've just brought Jane with them. "Er, no. Not today, at least." They could just come back later, surely?

"But eventually?"

The angel didn't have an answer for him. Part of him genuinely _did_ want Adam to see to Michael, but if his parents proved to be an obstacle...

"Are you _sure_ we can't do anything to help?"

And yes, there was also the boy's friends to take into consideration.

Aziraphale gave Brian a gentle smile and was about to speak until Crowley asked, "Don't you kids have homework to do or something?"

"Already did it!" Wensley said proudly, either oblivious or perhaps not caring for the demon's meaning.

Brian apparently did. "Don't think you can get rid of us that easily!"

"We're very stubborn, Mr. Aziraphale, Mr. Crowley," Pepper added cheekily.

 _Yes, I can see that._ And perhaps Aziraphale would've found this all to be simply adorable if not for the current situation.

A situation that didn't really seem all that dire anyway.

For now, at least.

But these children deserved to be just that-— _children_. And perhaps that included Adam as well.

And yet...

"You three really aren't going to leave, aren't you?" Crowley asked, seeming more amused than annoyed.

Pepper, Brian, and Wensley all shook their heads.

Adam spoke again in an almost disappointed tone. "Can't be all that important if you're being all secretive about it, though."

The rest of the Them nodded in agreement, all looking equally disinterested now. And soon, they all began to press on their pedals again.

"Come on, guys," said the former Antichrist. "Let's go see what Ananthema's doing."

Aziraphale's stomach coiled into knots as he watched them ride on in the other direction while Crowley cursed under his breath. "Now what?" hissed the snake demon. "Why don't we just tell them what's going on if you still want Adam to get involved? They already know enough!"

That was true enough, Aziraphale supposed. But wasn't that just more reason to keep them out of it? He had other options of course, but mind manipulation was recommended to be used on children, and he only ever used it on annoying customers and the mafia besides.

Crowley sighed and reached to squeeze Aziraphale's hand. "Let's just go, angel. 'less you want to get the witch involved as well."

 _The witch in—_ "Crowley, you genius!"

"Well, I'm glad you recognize that, Aziraphale, but... uh... what did I say?"

Aziraphale ignored him. "Hold on there, children!" he called as he walked a few paces after them; to his relief, they stopped. To Pepper, Brian, and Wensley, he said, "Very well! I see how much helping Adam means to you three, so perhaps you can be of some assistance after all."

They all smiled as they eagerly waited for their instructions.

"Er, angel? What are you doing?"

Aziraphale ignored his partner and spoke again. "Pepper, Brian, Wensley? I want you three to go get Miss Device. Adam, stay with us while we discuss what to do next."

Their faces fell, and Pepper even looked at Aziraphale with the most incredulous look on her face. "You're just trying to separate us, aren't you?" she asked. But instead of protesting, she heaved a sigh before added, "Fine, we'll go get Ananthema. But Adam _better_ still be here when we get back!'

Perhaps it was because she'd held his sword and defeated War herself, but Aziraphale suddenly felt a large wave of relief washing over him when he saw Pepper especially ride off to the witch's house.

Adam watched them leave until they were out of sight. Then, turning back to his godfathers, he said, "Okay, well, they're gone now. What's so important you couldn't just say in front of them?"

Crowley was soon at Aziraphale's side. "And as much as I enjoy seeing you try to manipulate kids, angel, we're not _really_ going to get the witch involved in this, are we?"

Adam spoke before Aziraphale could. "Don't see what good that'll do, anyway," he said, shaking his head. "She burned Agnes Nutter's second book of prophecies last month."

"Yes, well—I'm sorry, _what_?" Had he heard correctly? He'd only met Agnes Nutter's descendant a few times since the Apocalypse had been averted, and she seemed like such a lovely person. A _sensible_ person. So then, to quote Crowley, how could someone so clever have been so stupid? Not that she _was_ stupid of course, but her ancestor's prophecies had been _incredibly_ valuable and he'd been looking for them for _centuries_ and oh did Adam say it'd been her _second book_ —

"Is he alright?"

"Actually kid, I think you just broke him. Good job, by the way."

Aziraphale shook his head. _Focus!_ Jane and Michael first, Ananthema later. "Sorry about that, dears." Clearing his throat as Crowley wrapped a comforting arm around him, he continued. "As I was saying, there's a woman in my shop who essentially has amnesia—"

" _Supposedly_ has amnesia."

"Yes, _thank you_ , Crowley—and we—"

"Just him."

" _I_ was just wondering if you could perhaps help with finding out her identity."

Adam blinked and raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"

"Well, the basics, at least. Apparently she drank Lethe water— _supposedly_ drank Lethe water," Aziraphale corrected himself just as Crowley opened his mouth again, "so it'll take a very long time for her to regain her memories on her own again, if at all if she's telling the truth."

"Hm." The boy glanced in the direction his friends went. "I can help and it's probably best if you just bring her here, but I still don't see why you wanted to keep this a secret."

Aziraphale hesitated for a moment. "Ah, yes. Well, see, there's another—"

"Nope!" Crowley covered Aziraphale's mouth with his hand before the angel could say another word. Then he hissed— _literally_ hissed—into his partner's ear and said, "We _are not_ going to tell him about Michael!"

"Michael?" Apparently Crowley had still been loud enough for Adam to hear. "As in the _Archangel_ Michael?" There was no hiding the curiosity in his voice, but whether it was because she'd defeated his former father once before or simple childlike wonder, it was hard to tell.

Crowley slapped his forehead and muttered something under his breath while Aziraphale nodded his head. "It's a bit of a... long story, but all you need to know is that she's been turned human."

"And you want me to try to make her an angel again?"

Aziraphale was proud of the boy's cleverness. "Why, yes! Very good, Adam!"

As expected, Crowley protested. "Absolutely not! Aziraphale, I've known you for six thousand years, so I can safely say that this is quite possibly the craziest idea you've had yet!"

_Says the one who wanted to abandon Earth._

"Come on, we're leaving."

"But—"

"No buts!" Sighing and grabbing his hand, he said softly, "We'll talk at home and return soon. See you later, Adam."

* * *

The ride had been silent except for the Bentley playing Queen's love songs.

_You will remember, when this is blown over_   
_And everything's all by the way_   
_When I grow older_   
_I will be there at your side_   
_To remind you how_   
_I still love you (I still love you)_

She was not being subtle in the slightest.

So, after about a good twenty minutes, Aziraphale decided to break the ice. Or he would've, if he'd known what to say. He wasn't even sure if Crowley was actually upset with him or not!

Fortunately, the demon started for him. "What were you _thinking_ , Aziraphale? Do you have _any idea_ what Michael would do if she ever saw the kid?"

"Do you?"

"Well... no. But I can guess, and it's not pretty!" Softly, he added, "All Gabriel did was scold him, right? But Michael?" Crowley gave a bitter laugh just then. "She's more likely to _act_ nice and then kill Adam herself once he's no longer useful to her."

Aziraphale stared at Crowley, concerned. "He's a _child_ , Crowley!"

"Didn't stop you from trying it, right?"

"Oh, because _you_ were trying to talk me out of it, _right_? It's not like you were the first to suggest it or anything."

Awkward silence fell between them again, and Aziraphale balled up his hands, more angry with himself than anything. He always hated fighting with Crowley. _And it's amazing Adam wants anything to do with us at all._ _Would_ he had really killed the boy if Madame Tracy hadn't fought him? It wasn't a question he wanted to linger on for too long.

"Sorry, angel." Crowley's voice was so soft that Aziraphale barely heard him. "Just... we can finally live our own lives now. Us _and_ Adam. Do you really want to ruin that for him?"

Aziraphale was once again taken aback. "I'm not trying to ruin anything for anyone, Crowley!"

The demon shook his head, as though in unspoken apology. "Look, my point is, Michael may seem harmless now, but she won't be when she becomes an angel again. And especially not if she catches wind of Adam still having his powers."

Aziraphale opened his mouth to argue, to say that Michael had enough honor in her than to kill a little boy, but the words never came. Because it would make no difference. Despite her earlier behavior, he still refused to believe that Michael was the cruel monster the other angels seemed so determined to paint her as—Gabriel was still worse as far as he was concerned—but he also knew her well enough by now to know that she wasn't one to give up easily if it meant doing the right thing.

If it meant doing what she _thought_ was the right thing.

The same went for the rest of Heaven, now that he thought about it.

_Just like me and Crowley, I suppose._

He couldn't forget the demon's little theory, either: _"For all my money, the really big one will be all of us against all of them."_ And irrationality often heeded desperation.

Aziraphale shook his head at the memory. "I-I see your point, dearest." If such a thing ever _did_ come to pass, the last thing they needed was for Adam to be against them. Or worse.

Crowley stole a quick glance at him and kissed his partner's hand. "You have a big heart, Aziraphale. That's what I love about you the most."

The angel's heart swelled and he gave Crowley a quick peck on the cheek. "I understand your concerns, Crowley."

"But...?"

"But nothing. We'll still help Jane, but we'll keep Adam's powers a secret as far as Michael is concerned and just find some other way to return her to Heaven." Of course, their only other option was to wait, but oh well. What was a few years to an immortal being, anyway? And he and Michael had to get along at _some point_ , right?

Right?

"So, now what?"

"The Ritz?" Aziraphale suggested. "We haven't been there in weeks, it seems." And it'd be good to simply relax without having to worry about cursed angels or forgetful humans or bookshops. _Oh Someone, my bookshop!_ He _had_ made sure to close early, right?

If Crowley sensed his uncertainty, he didn't comment on it and nodded instead. "Yeah, that seems like a good idea."

And then the strange, invisible barrier that'd seemed to be between them all day returned.

Aziraphale sighed and looked out the window and then wondered softly to himself, "Why must relationships be so complicated?"

What he wasn't expecting was a reply.

"This is why I'm not in one."

The voice clearly wasn't Crowley's, yet still seemed vaguely familiar all the same. But he didn't have time to see who it was, because at that moment, Crowley sped up for the second time that day and their passenger screamed; apparently they hadn't bothered to wear a seatbelt either, because there was a thud.

"Crowley, slow down!" Aziraphale said. "Are you _trying_ to get us discorporated?"

"No, I'm trying to get _them_ discorporated!"

Aziraphale looked back just as the passenger sat back up. "Are all demons this dramatic?" they asked, groaning while rubbing their head. They had a gold aura, indicating they were indeed an angel. "Hi, Aziraphale."

It only took a second for him to recognize the olive face and long dark hair. "Cerviel? What on Earth are you doing here?"

"And in _my car_ , no less!" Crowley growled as he began to slow down. "Get out!"

Cerviel took a moment to regain composure. "I'm sorry for appearing like this, but I'm afraid I need you to return Upstairs."

 _Upstairs?_ "I... assume this isn't about those music lessons we talked about?"

"Music lessons?" Crowley echoed. "Didn't you teach that Nero guy how to play the lyre or something?"

Aziraphale shuffled in his seat. "Yes, well, that doesn't mean I was very _good_ at it. I did however inspire him to pursue music as a hobby, so surely that must count for something?"

 _"Anyway,"_ Cerviel began, their voice sharp, "it isn't about that at all. And I wouldn't have come to you _now_ if it wasn't urgent."

This caught Aziraphale's attention. "Well, what is it?"

The older principality hesitated for just a moment. "Remember when you explained yourself to Haniel and Raguel? I'm sorry to say that you're going to have to do that again. In front of the other leaders this time."


	40. Chapter 40

"Thank you again for agreeing to come, Aziraphale. I apologize for the inconvenience, and I'll do everything in my power to make up for it."

"That's not necessary, Cerviel... but I do appreciate it."

Of course, a bit more of a heads up would've been nice as well. It wasn't like he _wanted_ to do this either, with every rank's eyes on him. But if he didn't, the requests would probably just keep pouring in and then neither he nor his partner would ever know peace. _On the bright side,_ he thought, _at least they won't try to kill me._ That was the one comfort about all this.

"By the way, uh..." he began hesitantly, "what exactly shall we be discussing?"

Cerviel shrugged. "Oh, just the same things my siblings discussed with you, no doubt. Minus the revolution thing, of course."

"Is that still going on?"

They were silent for a moment. "I... really don't know." Their uncertainty quickly faded when they gave an encouraging smile. "So you have nothing to worry about! Just be yourself."

_Be myself._ Which meant doing the exact opposite of that, if he wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible.

They continued walking while Cerviel kept prattling on about something or other, until they reached a pair of large white doors, ones he didn't recognize. "Are these new?" he asked, and then immediately regretted asking.

"Hm?" Cerviel seemed confused for a moment, but that quickly went away as well. "Oh, that's right! I keep forgetting you were just a field agent."

Just _a field agent?_ He knew Cerviel wasn't trying to sound horrible—they seemed to be one of the few genuinely decent angels Heaven still had left—but there was still something in the way they said it that irritated him.

Cerviel didn't seem to notice and continued. "Anyway, these doors lead to one of the old courtrooms—specifically the one Michael used to cast judgement unto the so-called wayward. Rather unfairly, I might add," they said, clearly disgusted. "Meanwhile, the rest of us were practically forced to look on as witnesses, or else—" As though remembering their guest, they cleared their throat and said, "But anyway, the first sphere thought it would be fitting, as a way to honor our once _glorious_ commander."

The sarcasm wasn't lost on him. "It seems like you weren't too fond of Michael, either," he said, only slightly surprised by their little rant.

In reply, Cerviel gave a sad smile. "It's not like any of it matters anymore, right?" They didn't wait for a reply before opening the doors. White light filtered in, and he blinked a few times until his eyes adjusted to the room's intense brightness.

A few seconds later, and he noticed how large and empty the courtroom was, save for nine throne-like chairs hoisted high up on a raised platform, each divided in threes while the angels sitting in them were in their own boxes. _To represent the three spheres,_ he guessed. He didn't recognize any of them except for the archangel Raziel; it was easy to forget Heaven's scribe and interrogator was a leader as well. Each one was dressed in formal attire—white linen robes and halos and yellow-colored stoles, and each of them had their wings out. Most looked at him with sour expressions on their faces, and he suddenly felt small.

"How nice of you to join us at last, Cerviel," said the one in the largest, most ornate throne in the center as his wings fluttered in irritation.

_A seraph,_ he realized. _Best not to anger that one._ Yet there was something strange about this one as well—whereas most supernatural beings liked to maintain a young-ish appearance, the seraph looked to be about physically eighty. And even stranger was the aura, which was gold like most angels, but mixed in with gray as well.

Which only meant this angel had once been human.

"My apologies, Metatron," Cerviel said as they instantly changed into their own formal wear, and he wondered why that name sounded familiar. "But I'd like to see _you_ try and convince a technically retired angel to come back home for further questioning! And let me tell you, it wasn't easy, especially with that demon of his driving us all the way here."

A few squirmed in their seats at the mention of Crowley.

"You mean you couldn't have just transported here yourselves?" asked the one representing the cherubim as Cerviel took their seat beside Raziel. "But now that you're both here, let's just get this over with, shall we?"

The other angels all nodded and turned their attention to the one who'd betrayed them.

"Principality Aziraphale," began Metatron, "former guardian of the Eastern Gate of the Garden of Eden, an angel of England, and known Earth and demon sympathizer—"

"Well, I wouldn't say I'm—"

"—what exactly do you have to say for yourself?"

He withheld a sigh. Why should he even bother explaining himself to beings he knew would never understand? Or perhaps _Metatron_ would, having been born human and all.

But then again, so had Sandalphon, who'd been part of the execution plot. No, appealing to the seraph's humanity was perhaps the worst thing he could do.

"What can I possibly say that you all don't know already?" he asked. "And the Almighty tasked us to love and care for the humans, did She not? Well, I've done just that!"

"At the cost of prolonging our rivalry with Hell?" inquired the cherub. "Surely you know the Final Battle must come eventually?"

The Throne angel beside her laughed condescendingly. "Yes, don't be so naive, sweet prince. From one protector to another, I must admit, your dedication to Earth is indeed commendable, but despite what you may think of either of Her Plans, I'm sure averting the Apocalypse is not _quite_ what the Almighty meant when She tasked us to look after Her most precious creation."

The leader of the dominions scoffed. " _Precious_ should be used _very_ loosely here, Jophiel," they said, and for a second, he thought he saw Metatron flinch. "Everyone dies eventually, Aziraphale. Even us. So my question is, why bother wasting your time with those... talking monkeys? Especially when it was _your_ partner who led them to sin?"

Most of the angels murmured in agreement, while Raziel and Cerviel exchanged nervous glances.

He sucked in a breath, wondering what the point of all this was. "How many times must I say that all I've ever done is try to do the right thing? And I do so hate being redundant, but I've learned some time ago that none of you particularly care for my opinion anyway."

"Arrogant fool!" the cherub growled. "Cerviel, you expect us to believe that _this_ is your so-called champion?"

The principality looked like they very much didn't want to be in the room right now. "This whole revolution business wasn't even my idea!"

"No, you're just complicit for doing _absolutely nothing_ to stop it."

"Oh, shut up, Ophaniel!" Raziel snapped, wrapping a protective arm around Cerviel. "But if that's how you wanna play, how about—"

"ENOUGH!" Metatron's voice boomed throughout the room, causing everyone else to cover their ears. Once the echo faded, he asked, "Why don't we just get through this as quickly as possible before we all end up tearing each other to shreds? Aziraphale, considering all that has transpired since then, do you or do you not regret your part in prolonging our rivalry with Hell?"

"I do not," came the immediate reply as he raised his chin in defiance. "Believe me, I would never wish Michael's situation on anyone and I want this conflict to end just as much as you all do, but not if it means the destruction of Earth. And surely there's some other way to end this? Like a-a chess match, perhaps? Or—"

"A _chess match_?" sneered the one representing the low Angels—apparently not everyone from the third sphere was on his side. "We've spent _six thousand years_ training and preparing to defeat evil once and for all, and you want to determine the fate of the universe on a _chess match_?"

"Well, I was merely speaking in hypothetical terms."

Metatron spoke again. "In any case, even if we _wanted_ the Earth to be spared, _the other side_ doesn't. And by destroying all life, we'd essentially be showing mercy."

_"Mercy?"_ These angels were more delusional than he'd thought! "And what does the other side have to do with this? Or has Heaven decided to play by the Enemy's rules now?"

The Virtue rolled her eyes as several angels let out more irritated growls. "Only everything, you stupid pansy! Don't you see? Sin came to be due to the Serpent tempting Eve. So by taking away their one source of entertainment, there'd be no more suffering for the mortals."

"And no more burdens for us, right?" he asked, surprising the others with the challenge in his voice. _Oh, no!_ Perhaps he should've just held his tongue. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound cruel, but—"

"Oh, I'm sure we _all_ know exactly what you meant!" hissed the Power. "Blasphemous prince! I pity you, Aziraphale. Truly, I do. But surely even _you_ can't be this... this..."

"Ignoramus?" offered Metatron.

"Sure, let's go with that!"

Raziel actually looked hurt. "You think we don't care about the humans? Just because most of us aren't as involved as you are—"

"I-I never said that!"

"But you _implied_ it. Do you deny this?"

Cerviel spoke before he could. "I'm sure it's simply a poor choice of words, dear friend. But even _you_ must admit we have been rather... distant, lately. And tired. So very, _very_ tired."

The other angels remained silent, and he suddenly became aware of just how old they all were—and how that must've affected them. _Revolutions and wars and murders..._ It was no wonder most of them had grown so apathetic. None of it made it right, but part of him understood.

He cleared his throat to get their attention. "What Cerviel says is accurate. I'm sure you all _do_ care, but when was the last time any of you actually _experienced_ Earth rather than just treating the humans as just another assignment?"

Jophiel shook her head, and there was suddenly pain in her eyes. "Before you, the last time anyone did _that_ , there was another Fall, remember? So do forgive us for being cautious."

The Watchers. Right. "Obviously I'm not saying to... er... procreate with the humans or to abandon your duties, but maybe try to actually get to know them, at least?"

"You speak as though we've never done so," said the Angel in a gentle tone. "The humans' lifespans are small compared to ours, little one. We can't _afford_ to form attachments."

"It'd only lead to heartbreak," Cerviel added, their own voice cracking. "In this, I must side with my fellow leaders. Aziraphale, do you know who my last charge was?"

He shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't."

Their eyes grew wistful, almost distant. "King David. Yes, _the_ King David! Helped him slay Goliath and everything." There was pride in their voice, like a parent speaking boasting over their child's accomplishments. Then their face grew somber. "A great honor it had been. But then the whole Bathsheba and Uriah thing happened, I was then blamed for it—"

"Pardon?"

"—and then later on, I had to watch my one human friend die while _I_ kept on living. Took me some time to get over it." Cerviel shook their head sadly. "There's the spirit realm, of course, but it's simply not the same. And I think I speak for everyone here when I say I would want nothing more than to be close to the humans again, but knowing the _consequences_? I'm sorry, but it's simply not worth it."

Part of him expected to feel irritated, but he couldn't. What _did_ surprise him however was the feeling of pity. "I understand your reluctance," he said. "But as... erm..." He looked at the head dominion.

"Zadkiel."

"Yes, thank you! As Zadkiel said, _everyone_ dies. Should that stop _us_ from forming attachments with our fellow angels as well? With... with _Mother_?" The word felt strange on his tongue, and he almost regretted referring to God so informally when he saw the returning hostility.

"It's different when you're immortal, Aziraphale!" snapped Metatron, almost _too_ defensively. "But perhaps you've been on Earth for far too long to understand."

"Says the one who was born human." The words were out of his mouth before he realized he'd said them aloud. _Fuck!_

The other angels gasped in response while Metatron looked just about ready to smite him on the spot. Clearly being reminded of his humanity was still a sore spot for him.

Taking a few steps back, he said, "W-what I meant was... um... surely someone of your type would empathize with me."

"My _type_!?"

_Poor choice of words! Poor choice of words!_ By now, Metatron's wings were _literally_ on fire.

"I don't think I've ever known such insolence in all my life!" the seraph growled.

Ophaniel and Jophiel both seemed completely unfazed by Metatron's reaction as each placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Do calm down, brother," Ophaniel said. "Pay him no mind."

"Yes," Jophiel added. "He is still young compared to the rest of us, and is clearly just trying to get a rise out of you."

He wanted to defend himself, but quickly decided against it, and relief soon washed over him as the fire on Metatron's wings began to die down. _Thank Someone!_

"Why don't we move on?" Cerviel suggested awkwardly while briefly glaring at him. "Clearly this is a simple matter of perspective."

Metatron nodded sternly, as though he hadn't tried to attack someone just now. "Quite right. There is also the matter of going to Earth without a corporal form, as well as possessing someone. And don't even try to deny it, you little ingrate! We have several witnesses saying you tried to do it! And after investigating this further, you were apparently successful."

He remained silent for a moment as the memory came up. "Oh. That. W-what about it?"

_"What about it?"_ the Angel echoed, appalled.

Cerviel looked confused. "Wait, I'm sorry, but _what_ possession?" Giving a nervous laugh, they added, "Surely you all jest? It's completely impossible for an angel to possess a human. Right, Raziel?"

The archangel didn't reply and tried to sink into his throne.

Annoyed, Cerviel nudged their friend with their elbow. "Raziel!"

"Uh... so... funny story... haha..." Raziel's weak laugh quickly died down upon the other leaders glaring at him. "I _may have_ stumbled upon this information while I was doin' research on Aziraphale and then..." The archangel then mumbled something under his breath.

"What?" Cerviel asked impatiently. "Speak up, will you?"

The archangel sighed. "Swore the witnesses to secrecy. Though apparently the miracle either wore off or a few angels broke their vow if most of you know about it already. Starting with that snobby quartermaster, no doubt!"

The other two leaders of the third sphere stared at him in disbelief.

"In what universe did you think it was right to keep this a _secret_!" the head Angel demanded.

Raziel groaned. "Tell me this. How could this have helped us in any way? And even besides that, all it takes is _one_ angel to make a mess of things, to abuse an ability that none of us even knew we had!" Shaking his head, he added, "Of course I couldn't let this get out."

There were murmurs of sympathy among the leaders, though Cerviel still looked furious.

Metatron then cleared his throat. "Right. Well. What could you possibly say to justify _this_ , Aziraphale?"

"Er..." He took the time to consider his words. "I accidentally discorporated myself and there wasn't time to issue a new body."

"So you chose to _possess_ someone instead?" the Virtue asked. "And a _courtesan_ of all people at that!" They looked like they wanted to use a much harsher word to describe Madame Tracy. "Really, have you no shame?"

"I would've just given up right then and there if I were you," said Jophiel. "But I suppose your persistence is... _somewhat_ admirable. Then again, you also abandoned your platoon in favor of Earth. A true miracle that none of them seem to resent you for it."

Raziel spoke again. "And we can't forget that you also tried to kill the young Antichrist while—"

_"WHAT!?"_

The archangel winced at the chorus of surprised voices. "Sorry. I didn't tell you any of this, either?"

_"NO!"_

Metatron's fire returned when he turned back to glare at him. "Get out! Get out, you selfish, reckless traitor! And _never_ come back!"

_That's the plan!_ "Lovely meeting you all, really. A shame we must part on such horrid terms."

Cerviel was already by his side when he reached the door. "I'll walk you out," they said. "Last thing we need is for you to cause any more trouble."

He nearly protested, but soon relented, only giving a silent nod as the two of them stepped out of the room.

* * *

"What were you _thinking_ , Aziraphale?" Cerviel asked once the two of them were far enough away from the courtroom. "Not just now, but then as well! Oh, I wonder if Haniel and Raguel know about this."

He watched them pace around for a bit and then said, "I simply did what I thought was right, Cerviel. And you knew who I was when you chose to support me. I never tried to hide anything from you."

The principality stopped their pacing and frowned. "Good God, were you always this arrogant? I'm beginning to wonder why She chose to favor you."

_Favor?_

"You weren't like this when we met," they continued, resuming their pacing. "Or perhaps you were and I simply didn't notice. And, oh, I know just much you love Earth and the humans, but..." By now, they were just muttering to themselves under their breath.

He suppressed another sigh as he watched them. Surely he could simply leave on his own now? And it wasn't like he didn't know the way out, so why an escort? _The others have already made it clear they don't trust me, but..._

A soft gasp from Cerviel broke him out of his thoughts.

His stomach clenched. Did they suspect something? "W-what's wrong?"

Cerviel hesitated, then their face broke into an unsettling smile. "Oh, nothing! Just thinking about all those music lessons we could've had together. In fact!" They grabbed hold of his hand and immediately, the two were transported to a room filled with various instruments. "Take your pick."

"Oh, uh..." He nervously glanced around. "Won't these be missed?"

Cerviel laughed. "Of course not! They're all mine, after all. _Remember?_ "

He laughed along and took a few steps back. "R-right..." _Just take one and go._

"I highly suggest looking in the back, though!" they said in a chipper voice. "Lots of good strings there."

He nodded and hesitantly turned his back on the principality as he walked towards the wall of cellos and lyres and the like.

"By the way," Cerviel began, "what instrument did I recommend you should play?" Chuckling softly, they added, "I'm afraid my mind isn't what it once was."

"Uh..." _Come on, what was it?_ But nothing came to mind as he quickly scanned through the instruments. Still, he needed to stay calm. _You're almost out of here._ And then his eyes landed on a black guitar, one so shimmering that it almost seemed to be made out of stars. _Well, so long as they're offering..._ "Was it this lovely guitar?"

But his excitement faded as soon as he turned back to face Cerviel.

Because in the principality's hands was a loaded sling.

"It was a _violin_ , you stupid demon!"

And then they fired.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So according to my word counter, this was 2,666 words.

A few minutes. It was only supposed to be for a few minutes. And it'd been Cerviel's fault, really, showing up unannounced, demanding that Aziraphale go back Upstairs even though the angel had made his intentions as clear as day.

But no. Heaven always wanted _something_ , even if it meant completely ignoring the desires of one of their own.

So, Crowley had done what any good boyfriend would do.

_"What if we switched again?"_

_"Absolutely not!"_

But after some smooth talking—or at least what he'd _percieved_ to be smooth talking—and plenty of kisses here and there, Crowley had eventually been able to convince his angel to switch just once more.

And now here he was, still in the music-filled room and still impersonating his partner while bound again. Only this time, his captor wasn't a pair of arrogant Archangels or Thrones, but a single, innocent-looking principality. It just wasn't _his_ innocent-looking principality.

"Cerviel, what is the meaning of this?" he asked, trying so very hard to stay in character as he struggled against the bindings. His head still hurt after having been knocked unconscious by a _pebble_ of all things, but he did his best to ignore it. "Let me go! I need to get back to Crowley!"

Cerviel hummed, an amused expression on their face as they walked around the bound angel. "You almost had me fooled, you know? The aura, the voice, the mannerisms, even the scent... Everything was _perfect_! But here's the thing, dearie," they added as they stopped just behind the false angel and placed their hands on his shoulders, "the third sphere always knows its own eventually."

 _And I thought_ I _was dramatic!_ Still, it was rather adorable in a way, seeing this otherwise kind angel doing their best to sound intimidating. "Cerviel, I really have no idea what you're talking about."

"Ha! Dedicated. I like it."

Crowley-as-Aziraphale did his best not to frown as he looked at his captor. "I'm telling you the truth!"

Cerviel however was perhaps too intelligent than he'd given them credit for. "Right, right. And _I'm_ the Queen of Sheba. Who, by the way, was quite lovely!" Waving their hand in a dismissive manner, they said, "Anyway, it matters not what you say to me. I'll find out the truth soon enough."

"What is that even supposed to—"  
He was quickly interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Ah! That must be Raziel now!"

His blood ran cold, though he tried not to show it. Why hadn't he just listened to Aziraphale? _Bless it all, the things I do for love!_ But perhaps he could still escape once his bindings were undone. Assuming Raziel didn't try to read him first, that is.

He heard Cerviel open the door and say, "Oh, thank God you're here, Raziel!"

The archangel of mysteries didn't sound as enthused. "Sure, it's not like I have a million other things to—wait, why is Aziraphale tied up?"

"Hello, Raziel," he greeted, turning his head to look at him as best he could. "It would appear Cerviel here is under the impression that I'm not... well... _me_."

Raziel blinked and then blinked again and then turned to his friend with the most confused look on his face. "What the Hell, Cerv?"

Cerviel shook their head. "I know this looks bad, but I'm telling you, this _isn't_ Aziraphale! In fact, I bet you right now that it's Crowley!"

"Right..."

"I always knew angels and demons didn't mix well together—"

Crowley resisted the urge to laugh.

"—and now something has happened to poor Aziraphale! And I want _you_ to use your powers to probe him!"

Now Raziel just looked annoyed, as though this weren't the first time someone called on him for only his powers. And from the little Crowley knew of the angel, it likely wasn't. "You called me all the way for _this_?"

"I know how busy you are," Cerviel said gently. "But after some thinking, I suspected something was off."

"So then why do you need _me_?"

"Well, you're the interrogator, right? You can confirm it. Perhaps get more information out of him!"

Did _all_ principalities fancy themselves a detective?

Crowley tried again. "I really think this is all very unnecessary," he said.

Cerviel ignored him. "You know him the most, Raz. Well, sort of. Didn't you think his behavior earlier was just a _little_ odd? How arrogant he seemed?"

Raziel shrugged. "We all knew how passionate he was about Earth. Really, what else were you expecting, especially when he's already favored by God?"

There it was again. Favored. _Well, now they really_ can't _know the truth!_ "For the last time, Cerviel, _I am the real Aziraphale!_ "

The principality still eyed him with suspicion. "If you speak the truth, then you won't mind Raziel here reading you," they said, using a hand to gesture towards the archangel.

Raziel simply rolled his eyes. "Don't I get any say in this?"

"Do you want Heaven to be safe or not?"

There was no reply, but Crowley was able to catch just a chink of resentment on the archangel's face—but _only_ a chink. And if this continued, the cracks would only grow. _I know that more than anyone._ Really, one would think Heaven would tread more lightly when it came to certain angels by now. But clearly they'd learned nothing. And perhaps never would. It was almost like they were _asking_ for Hell to win.

To his relief, Raziel didn't move. Instead, he simply snapped his fingers and off came the bindings.

The disguised demon breathed a sigh as he rubbed his wrists while glaring at a wide-eyed Cerviel. "At least _someone_ here sees sense!"

The principality took a step back, as though they were going to get attacked at any moment. "W-why would you do that?" they asked Raziel.

"Because I've no interest in interrogating anyone today."

"Your duty—"

"—is practically obsolete so long as Heaven is the mess that it is now!" Sighing, he added, "And like I said, I'm busy with a few other things right now. That human I told you 'bout, for one thing. Besides—" he looked at Crowley-as-Aziraphale up-and-down—"how do you even _know_ this isn't Aziraphale?" Laughing, he added, "What, d'you have some demon detecting powers I don't know about?"

Cerviel only looked more frustrated. "I had a feeling, that's all."

"A _feelin'_?" Raziel echoed in disbelief. "So you interrupted me from my work based on a _feelin'_?"

"You know _very well_ that I wouldn't have done so if I wasn't sure about this."

The disguised demon cleared his throat to get their attention. "If Raziel here isn't going to do anything, I believe I might as well go. Crowley and I were planning to go to the Ritz later, and I'd simply _hate_ for us to be late."

Raziel nodded understandably and stepped aside. "Of course, Aziraphale. Don't let me stop you."

He smiled and silently congratulated himself for being able to fool the _archangel bloody Raziel_ of all beings, until Cerviel blocked his path.

"You're not going anywhere!" they growled. Then they turned to Raziel. "And _you_! You know, it's rather concerning that you're not taking the threat of a potential intruder as seriously as I am!"

Raziel rubbed his temple and then grabbed Cerviel by the arm. "'cuse us for a minute!" The archangel practically dragged his friend out the door before they could protest.

 _Bless it!_ Crowley cursed silently while forming a fist. It was almost tempting to just set this entire place on fire and be done with it once and for all! But no, such a thing seemed a little _too_ demonic, even for him. And would also no doubt attract Hell's attention.

So he did the most Aziraphale-y thing he could think of and simply tapped his foot impatiently while waiting for the two angels to return. And from the corner of his eye, he soon noticed the principality and archangel standing just outside a window; he couldn't hear what they were saying, but from their tense movements, he could tell that Raziel and Cerviel were in the middle of an argument.

And then Cerviel must've pulled the _I Outrank You_ card, because Raziel suddenly relaxed and bowed his head. And yet, everything about it seemed so terribly _inauthentic_. Which was probably intentional.

 _I'm never getting out of here, am I?_ he wondered with dread.

The two angels came back not a moment later, wearing matching smiles as he tried to appear as casual as possible.

"Well?" he asked. "May I go now?"

To his surprise, Cerviel nodded. "But of course! My apologies, Aziraphale. You must understand, everyone has been so on edge since Nithael, I simply wanted to make sure something like her didn't happen again."

He gave a curt nod. "Of course, Cerviel. Although, perhaps next time, you could take a more... innocent until proven guilty approach?" He didn't wait for them to respond before stepping out the room, feeling relieved. _Finally!_

"I'm really sorry 'bout them!" Raziel said as soon as Cerviel closed the door. "But it's like Cerviel said, everyone's just been a little paranoid lately."

 _Paranoid. Sure._ Part of him almost wanted to ask what he and Cerviel talked about, but that would require being around the archangel longer. "Well, you can make it up to me by letting me leave as quickly as possible."

"You got it!"

And in an instant, the two were immediately transported to the outside world. _I never thought I'd be so grateful to breath in fresh air!_ And just across the street, he was able to see the Bentley. "Thank you so much, Raziel," he said with another sigh of relief. "Oh, and uh... do you want me to take a message to Michael?" She was still living in the bookshop, might as well.

Still, he wasn't disappointed when the archangel shook his head. "Just tell her I'm still workin' on Jane's case, 'kay? Now, do me a favor and enjoy the rest of the day!" Raziel laughed and gave him a playful shove.

Maybe it was his snakey self coming out, but Crowley nearly lost his balance as he joined in nervously. "W-wil do, Raziel." _I'm almost there, angel! Just need to cross the street!_ "Have a nice day." _Ugh, someone smite me!_

He didn't wait for Raziel to respond before turning his back on him. And yet the archangel called out to him anyway, just as the light had begun to change.

"Will do... _Crowley_."

* * *

"Dearest, do calm down! Now, tell me again."

They'd switched back, Aziraphale and him, as soon as the demon was sure Raziel was completely gone.

"Th-they know, Aziraphale!" Crowley blurted out as he kept driving, which probably wasn't a good idea, but since when was he one to be _rational_? "Cerviel and Raziel. They _know_ about the switch!"

Aziraphale's face crumpled, eyes widening. "Oh, dear." He was apparently too shocked to give a bigger reaction. "Wait, is it _just_ Cerviel and Raziel?"

"Didn't you hear me? _Yes!_ "

The angel had apparently lost all sense as well, no longer seeming all that panicked. "Well, we have nothing to worry about, then."

 _"What!?"_ Crowley hit the break for what had to had been the third or fourth time that day. "Aziraphale, do you even hear yourself?"

"Quite well, Crowley," Aziraphale said while smiling. "But just think about it for a second, will you? Cerviel and Raziel are both from the third sphere, right?"

"Right..." He already knew where Aziraphale was going with this.

"So then, they'll just keep this between themselves!"

Crowley shook his head. "I... don't know, angel. There was a leader of the lowest rank as well—don't think I ever caught their name—and they seemed pretty against you... me... you know what I mean! And that Cerviel doesn't seem to approve of our relationship, either."

"Really?" This seemed to hurt Aziraphale the most. "They seemed alright with us being together when I spoke to them."

Crowley shrugged, feeling a twinge of pity for his partner. "Probably just trying to get on your good side. Besides, you can't just expect all of them to get over their prejudices in a few months, right?"

"Hm. I suppose..."

Crowley glanced at the saddened angel and kissed his cheek. "Hey," he said softly, briefly giving his partner's hand a gentle squeeze, "who cares what anyone else thinks?"

Aziraphale seemed to have cheered up just a bit, as he gave a slight smile. "You're probably right, dearest. But are you _sure_ Cerviel knows?"

His bliss quickly evaporated. "They suspect _something_ , at least. And Raziel most definitely knows." He paused for a bit and then continued. "I don't think either of them know the _entire_ truth, but it won't be long before they do."

"Hm..." Aziraphale looked deep in thought now, and Crowley kept on driving in silence for the next several minutes until the angel said, "At least most of the third sphere have built-up resentment towards the first sphere already, Raziel included. So I doubt he'll say anything, if only out of spite."

" _Or_ he'll tell them to gain respect."

He was only slightly surprised when Aziraphale didn't argue. Shoulders drooping, the angel said, "Maybe... I suppose we'll have to wait and see."

Crowley nodded reluctantly, wishing more than anything to comfort his boyfriend. But how _did_ one silence an angel who knew everything? Besides killing them, of course. _And something tells me neither Heaven nor Aziraphale would appreciate it if I committed murder again._

So, he drove in silence again while Queen played; listening to Freddie Mercury always soothed the nerves every now and then, and even Aziraphale was humming along to _Somebody to Love_. _I should've kept that guitar!_ Crowley thought regretfully. And he wasn't one to regret easily. But perhaps taking his angel to a concert one of these days would work just as well.

And of course, he was a demon. He could just _make_ an instrument appear if he really wanted to. Then all he'd need to do was learn the chords. And many angels didn't _really_ celebrate Christmas—not on the day most humans celebrated it, anyway—but it still seemed like a nice gift to give for the 25th of December.

"Um, Crowley?"

"Hm?"

"The bookshop? You nearly passed it, dear."

Crowley realized that Aziraphale was right, but was still confused. "Didn't you want to go to the Ritz?"

"I do," he insisted. "I just need to see if things are still in order first."

_Translation: I need to make sure that no first editions have been sold again._

He still thought Aziraphale was just making things more difficult for himself by staying in the same place as one of his tormentors, but _especially_ after the fire, he couldn't really blame him, either. "Okay, angel," he said before parking the car and getting out, Aziraphale following not long after.

Aziraphale smiled and gave him a chaste kiss. "Thank you, darling. I promise, it won't be long.

Which likely meant it would take a good hour or so before he was ready to leave. And that was if they were _lucky!_

"I'll go with you," Crowley said, trailing not far behind. "Someone needs to hold you back if another book was sold."

Aziraphale laughed as he made his way to the door. "Don't worry, dearest. This is only a precaution. And after today, I'm sure nothing else can go—"

"Hi, guys!"

That most certainly didn't sound like Michael. Or Jane, from the little time he spent talking to her.

And yet, the voice still sounded familiar. And most importantly, _young_.

 _Oh Someone, no!_ Quickly, he joined Aziraphale at the door and looked over the angel's shoulder. And his heart immediately sank.

Because at a nearby table sat Adam Young, happily eating a sandwich, while Michael loomed over him with a knife.


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, another long one this time!

Michael's head was pounding by the time she'd awoken. Looking into the past had literally been painful, and all it'd really done was give her more reason to want Nithael dead more than she already did. _I should've just_ doused _her with holy water instead!_ she thought while rubbing her head. But at least there was always next month.

"You're awake!"

That didn't sound like Jane at all. Or either Aziraphale or Crowley, for that matter. And as Michael sat up and blinked away the last bits of sleep, she was greeted by the sight of a small, curly-haired boy, who was looking at her with curious blue eyes. _His_ curious blue eyes, though it'd felt like a lifetime since she'd last looked into them. "Leave me _alone_ , Nithael!" she groaned, burying her face in her hands. What would it take for such a thing to occur?

"Who's Nithael?" she heard the boy ask, clearly confused. "I'm Adam. Adam Young."

 _Adam Y—oh, fiddlesticks!_ Michael raised her head ever-so-slowly, hoping that maybe her mind was simply playing tricks on her and that the Antichrist wasn't in her presence at this very moment.

But he was, and much to her dismay, he still looked like a completely ordinary child. And beside him was a completely ordinary dog.

She decided to hate both of them immediately.

"You have some _nerve_ coming here!" she snapped. "After what you did, I should—"

A growl rumbled from the dog, until Adam started petting him. "It's okay, Dog," he said to the former hellhound. "She won't hurt me."

"You don't know that!"

All her words did was seem to amuse him. And perhaps rightfully so. Antichrist or not, he was still a child. There was a reason why Heaven had targeted Aziraphale and Crowley and _only_ Aziraphale and Crowley; killing children was something Hell would do—and had indeed done in the past.

 _Oh, God!_ "Child," she began, sitting a little straighter, "are you here for protection?" The traitors might've saved Earth, but she doubted even _they_ had enough power to take on the entirety of Hell on their own.

Adam looked confused for a moment, but then seemed to get what she was implying. "No," he said while shaking his head. "Everything's fine. But Aziraphale wanted me to check up on a few things here."

"And I assume one of these _things_ is _me_?" _How dare Aziraphale get the_ Antichrist _involved?_ And what could he possibly do to help?

If Adam noticed her annoyance, he didn't comment on it. "Well, that, and... something about a woman who drank some strange water?"

"Oh, you must mean Jane." Was there anything the angel _hadn't_ told him? "I assume she was the one who let you in?"

The boy nodded. "Is that her name? Aziraphale didn't tell me."

 _Well, that answers that_. "Yes, well, he seems to have a knack for that sort of thing these days. Er, where _is_ Jane, anyway?" she asked as she looked around.

Adam answered by pointing upwards.

Michael's stomach churned. She was familiar enough with human gestures to know what this particular one meant. "She's _dead_?" _Whatever did you_ do _, child?_ And was _she_ next?

"What? No!" Adam actually seemed appalled by the question. "I only meant that she's _literally_ upstairs! There's a whole other floor in this shop, you know."

Michael tried to ignore the heat rushing to her cheeks. "Oh. Right. 'course that's what you meant." She really needed to calm down. "And where exactly are your... parents? Your Earthly ones, I mean." She knew he had apparently warped reality so that he was no longer Satan's son, but it was still a bit difficult to imagine him being anything but.

Adam opened his mouth to respond, but Jane entered the back room with two books before he could.

"Wonderful to see you awake!" said the human, eyes shining bright with affection when she looked at Adam. "And I see you've already met our little guests. I know Mr. Fell closes around this time, but Adam here claimed to be family."

 _Family?_ Well, she supposed that wasn't _entirely_ wrong. "Indeed he is!" Michael said, mustering up all the false enthusiasm she could. "My nephew, in fact. My first younger brother's son." Ignoring Adam's annoyance and Jane's confusion, she drew the boy closer and said, "Which reminds me... _Adam_... do your parents even _know_ you're here?"

The boy nodded wordlessly, and Michael briefly wondered if he was telling the truth or if he simply manipulated the Youngs' minds in some way so he could visit. "I know I probably should've called first, but I really wanted to help."

Jane cooed. "Aw! How nice that you wish to help out around the shop, little one!"

Adam only looked more annoyed. "You _do_ know I'm eleven, right?"

"Which is why," Michael said as she stood, "you really _must_ be going home. Az— _Ezra_ isn't even here right now. And besides, you must have plenty of homework and chores to do already. We wouldn't want to tire you out, would we?"

"But—"

"I suppose Miss Goodwin has a point," Jane said, looking thoughtful. "But we'll tell Mr. Fell you were here, dear. And in the meantime—" She gave him the books she'd been carrying—"here are the books you asked for."

Michael glanced at the books curiously. "They're not first editions, are they?"

"I... wouldn't know. Why?"

She ignored her and held out her hands, and Adam gave her the books without hassle. "Okay, let's see..." Then she grimaced when she saw the titles: the _Book of Raziel_ and the _Book of Enoch_ ; she felt irritated from seeing the former and had put it upstairs for a _reason_ , and she forced herself to push down the painful memories that had come with the latter.

Jane's brow creased with concern. "Are you alright, Miss Goodwin?"

"Eh?" Michael shook her head. "Oh, yes! Simply that... are you sure you want to take _these_ books with you, Adam? The material they contain may not exactly be... suitable for someone your age." She didn't know the exact contents of Raziel's, but she'd practically _lived_ through the Metatron's. And besides, she really didn't need to hear Aziraphale berate her again.

Jane gasped. "Did I give him something inappropriate by mistake? I'm sorry! Here, let me just put these back where they were!"

"Thank you, Jane."

Books back in her hands, the woman said while turning, "You can read these when you're old enough, young man!"

Adam was visibly disappointed, but didn't protest; his hound did that for him by whimpering for a bit. Instead, the boy simply turned back to Michael and said, "At least tell me what happened. I really want to help, Michael, but I can't if—"

"What can you _possibly_ do to help me?" she asked angrily. "Or Jane? Or even Heaven? Or if you really wanted to help, you'd have restarted the Apocalypse rather than warp reality, you disobedient little brat!"

To his credit, Adam didn't even flinch, like most children probably would have.

But at the end of the day, he was still a child.

Michael sighed and made room for Adam to sit beside her. "But I suppose it wasn't _entirely_ your fault. Aziraphale and Crowley talked you out of it as well, right?"

Adam shook his head. "S'not their fault, either! My friends and I had already defeated the Horsepeople by then, anyway. Well, except Death. All my godfathers did was help me stand up to Satan."

 _Godfathers?_ "And yet you still have your powers, I bet, if you recognized me." Truthfully, the thought of her infernal brother being defeated by _a child_ of all things was still hilariously pathetic, but she could laugh about it again later. "You may not be his anymore, but you're still more like him than you realize."

Adam stiffened. "I'm not—"

"I don't mean it as an insult, nor am I trying to scare you," Michael said as gently as she could. "But surely even _you_ know the story? Or a _version_ of it, at least. How a beautiful angel and his followers foolishly tried to go up against a being far more powerful than them and lost."

"But my friends and I _weren't_ foolish!" Adam said defiantly. "And unlike your brother, _we won_."

 _For now,_ she added silently. But fine, let the boy play pretend for just a little while longer. There'd be time for him to face the repercussions later. "Yes, I suppose you did." Then she laughed softly, moreso to fill in the silence, and then glanced in the direction Jane had went. "But do tell me, just why _did_ you want to look into Raziel's and the Metatron's books?"

Adam shrugged as he petted Dog again. "Well, Raziel's is a grimoire, isn't it? I figured maybe my friend Ananthema could use it and perhaps find some memory spells or something."

"Ananthema?" Michael echoed. "Wait, do you mean Agnes Nutter's girl?" As the only true witch in England, a few angels had made it a personal goal of theirs to keep track of Agnes' descendants, but Michael hadn't thought anything of it until recently. The world could've just destroyed itself on its own had it not been for the girl and that horrid technician friend of hers.

Adam smiled and nodded. "Mm-hm! And I know the Metatron was born human, so I figured there could be something in _his_ book that could help _you_."

 _Why didn't_ I _think of that?_

"But since I can't read either of them now," Adam continued, "just how _did_ the Metatron become an angel in the first place? And Sandalphon? From what Aziraphale told me, neither of them sound very nice."

Michael laughed again, grateful that the boy didn't know _everything_ about the supernatural. "Well, you see, child, they... Er, the thing about the Metatron is that..." She frowned. "Hm."

"You don't know?"

The question was one out of genuine curiosity, yet Michael still couldn't help but bristle with annoyance. "I didn't think to ask!" she said defensively. "Angels aren't meant to question, only obey."

"The rebels did."

"Yes, and look where _that_ got them! Anyway, I always just assumed it was because he'd been incredibly pious in life. Sandalphon however I'm pretty sure Ascended because the Metatron wanted him to. They're brothers, you know. _Actual_ ones."

"They're close?"

"They _were_." And then at some point, Sandalphon began spending all his time with Gabriel and Uriel whenever he wasn't smiting—something he'd always seemed to be just a bit _too_ gleeful about as far as Michael was concerned. Waving a dismissive hand, she added, "But that was a long time ago. And before you suggest it, Aziraphale hates summonings, so we can't do that, either." Not with a human still in the shop, at least.

There was a twinkle in the boy's eyes just then. "Maybe not _here_ ," he said. "But Madame Tracy's a medium! Perhaps she could—"

"I'm sorry, but who's Madame Tracy?"

"Just someone Aziraphale possessed after he got discorporated."

Michael stared at the boy for what felt like an eternity, only speaking to let out a flat "What." She knew children to have active imaginations, but this was just ridiculous! Angels being capable of possession? Preposterous!

"Yeah!" Adam said excitedly. "I know it sounds weird, but it really happened. I separated them, though, after Aziraphale tried to kill me."

 _"What!?"_ If what the boy said was true, then how had she not known about any of this? _Good God, that angel is worse than I thought!_ And the others thought _she_ was cruel? _Who else knows about this?_ she thought, a plan beginning to form in her head. Indeed, what a shame it would be if the third sphere knew that the one they looked up to had nearly killed a child.

A child who had been tasked with destroying the world, but a child nonetheless. And children themselves were young and, most importantly, _impressionable_. _Perhaps..._

But the thought went away almost as quickly as it'd come. She couldn't manipulate someone, could she? _Not again._ Never _again._

But perhaps most disturbing of all was that Adam seemed completely unfazed by this. Did he think it'd all been part of some sort of game?

"Maybe you should be getting back, Adam," Michael said. "Before it gets late." _And so I can get something to dull the senses._

The boy seemed almost disappointed. "Oh. Okay." He stood, and Michael began to follow him and Dog out, passing Jane, who gave them a little wave. "Take care," she said, and then resumed to organizing the shelves.

To Michael's surprise, Adam's only acknowledgement of the woman was a curt nod, and there was a strange, unreadable look on his face. _He must still be upset about the books,_ she guessed. _Oh, he'll get over it._

"Well, thank you for coming today, Adam," Michael said as she opened the door. "Please don't be afraid to stop by again."

But instead of stepping outside, Adam stopped and turned back to Michael. "Do I have to go _now_ , though? I forgot to eat before coming here, and—"

"And you expect me to believe that?" How stupid did the boy think she was?

But like her brothers, Adam was persistent, his eyes round and pleading, and even his dog copied him while giving little whimpers and nuzzling Michael's leg.

"You're not going to leave until we talk properly, are you?"

"Nope!"

The former Archangel gave a deep sigh. "Very well, then," she said reluctantly. "Why don't you take a seat and I'll make you a sandwich?"

Adam grinned and walked past her to sit at a nearby table. "Wait, _you'll_ make me a sandwich?"

"I was an Archangel, Mr. Young, not an idiot. And please don't read too much into this, either."

And if there was ever a time she'd felt grateful for Aziraphale's love for human food, it was now.

"There you go, dear," Michael said once she was done putting together slices of ham and cheese between two pieces of bread while Dog was given a bowl of water. After cutting the sandwich in half, she added, "I hope it's to your liking." She meant it with just a bit of sarcasm, but Adam didn't seem to take any notice of it.

"Thank you!" he said while chewing, so his words came out a bit muffled.

From the corner of her eye, Michael caught Jane looking at them with a sad smile on her face. _She must be thinking about her own family,_ the former Archangel realized with pity. _Or perhaps lack thereof._ Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to enlist the Antichrist's help after all. The more the merrier, right?

"Hi, guys!"

Adam's voice interrupted Michael from her thoughts, and she turned her head to see Aziraphale and Crowley at the doorway. "Well, it's about time you two—"

"Get away the Heaven away from him!"

_Wait, what?_

And then Crowley moved past Aziraphale before rushing towards her.

* * *

"So, what have we learned today?"

"Don't— _ow!_ —attack someone who knows how to fight? _Ngk!_ Especially if they're holding a knife."

" _Very good_ , Anthony! Would you like a cookie?"

"Oh, shut up! Ow!"

Though every bit of the demon's suffering filled her with joy, Michael bit her lip to keep herself from laughing. But she knew that this was also as close as she'd ever get to making Crowley pay for all he had done, so she was determined to savor the moment as much as she could. _You're lucky I don't have my powers, Serpent!_

Jane kept her distance as she handed Michael another rag. "Are you _sure_ you don't want me to call the authorities?" she whispered, eyeing the demon with increasing suspicion. "He tried to _attack_ you!"

"And _he_ was the one who came out all the worse for it." It'd be useless anyway, what with Crowley being a demon and all. And besides, she didn't think Aziraphale would appreciate it if he came back from Tadfield, only to find his boyfriend behind bars.

"You two _do_ realize I can hear you, right?" Crowley said dryly, and winced when Michael continued to apply iodine on his shoulder. "Christ, did you seriously have to _stab_ me? What, punching me in the face wasn't enough for you?"

"Oh, you _poor thing_ ," Michael said with false sympathy. "But this is what you get for accusing me of trying to _hurt my own nephew_!" Or any child, for that matter. "Really, how did you even come to _that_ conclusion?"

"Well, you _were_ holding a knife."

 _"I was cutting him a sandwich, you idiot!"_ And did Crowley really have any room to talk? Was this not the same demon who was responsible for the Second World War, the Spanish Inquisition, the Fall of Man? _I know my side isn't perfect, but really!_ He was lucky she was giving him first aid at all.

Jane sniffed and passed him an ice pack. "Perhaps this shall also teach you a lesson about jumping to conclusions!"

Crowley, who'd had his eyes closed the entire time, simply made a noise that sounded somewhere between a growl and a groan before applying the ice to his face. "I bet you're enjoying this."

This time, Michael _did_ laugh. "Maybe just a little," she admitted. Turning to the woman, she said, "Why don't you go fetch Mr. Crowley some water, Jane?"

Unsurprisingly, Jane hesitated and glanced warily from Michael to Crowley and back again. "A-are you sure, Miss Goodwin? What if he tries to attack again?"

"Really?" Crowley said. "You're worried about _her_?"

"I hate to say this, but he has a point, dear," Michael said, smiling. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

It almost seemed like Jane wasn't going to leave, but then she nodded. "Very well, Miss Goodwin. I'll be back in just a minute." She took the time to shoot Crowley a glare before finally walking away.

As soon as she was gone, Crowley let out a sigh of relief before Michael asked, "Can you heal yourself?" She was responsible for his injuries, yes, but that didn't mean she had to tend to him for longer than she could tolerate.

Crowley opened his yellow eyes again, only to roll them. "What kind of demon would I be if I didn't know a few basic healing miracles?"

It seemed to be a slight jab at her, she knew, though she'd long lost count of just how many demons she'd discorporated or killed or even just permanently scarred. And looking back, most had _probably_ been avoidable. But if there was anything she refused to feel guilty over, it was this.

And in an instant, not only were both the bruise on his face and the wound on his shoulder gone, but the used medical supplies as well. "So, how do I look?" Crowley asked with an air of arrogance.

"About every bit as irritating as before. Wait, no. Make that more so."

"You're the worst, you know that?"

"Try looking into a mirror sometime." After a moment, she added, "Now please get out before Jane comes back. I'll just tell her Aziraphale came to take you to the hospital or something."

Crowley didn't even bother arguing. "Look at that," he said while standing, "we're actually agreeing on something for once."

Michael almost expected him to apologize before he walked away from her, but he didn't. Was it really too much to ask for one? _It's Crowley,_ she reminded herself. He didn't regret anything. Still, the thought of him—of _anyone_ —thinking she'd hurt a _child_...

_The Flood, Isaac, Job..._

So perhaps there was _some_ credence to it, but it wasn't like either of these things had been her idea anyway. Well, except everything concerning Job. And even then, she'd only been _partially_ involved in the man's test of faith.

But the past was the past, and everything worked out in the end anyway, right?

And yet, if _Crowley_ thought she was capable of such an act, what did that say about her angels?

_"Heaven loves to preach about love and peace and so many other good things, but you're all just a bunch of bloody hypocri—"_

Michael shook her head to rid herself of Nithael's words. The trial seemed like a lifetime ago now. It was almost funny, really, how she was forgetting things here and there, and yet still be able to remember one of the worst days of her life.

 _Focus,_ she told herself while taking deep breaths. There would be time to reevaluate everything when she became an angel again. _And for now,_ she thought to herself as she took a seat on the sofa, _perhaps I should just take the time for some rest and—_

"Ahh!"

Well, so much for relaxation.

Standing, Michael asked, "Is everything alright?" And she didn't have to go very far, either, to see Jane all tensed up and Crowley's sunglasses on the floor.

 _Oh, no!_ Michael immediately stepped in between them. "What's going on?"

Crowley quietly responded while putting his glasses back on. "She bumped into me and saw my eyes."

_Well, yes, obviously._

"I-I'm sorry," Jane stammered, clutching onto the bottle of water that had been meant for Crowley. "I should've watched where I was going. But you... seem to be all better now. Somehow."

Why hadn't Crowley just transported himself out? "Yes, it's a... miracle..." Such claims still worked on the humans, right?

"Yeah, my family is known for their, er, resilience!" Crowley said awkwardly.

"And your eyes?" Jane caught herself. "Sorry! I don't mean to—"

"It's a birth condition!" he blurted out. "And a very, _very_ rare one, in fact. Y'know, like how Elizabeth Taylor had those violet eyes of hers."

The mention of the actress immediately made Michael think of Gabriel. _No time for that now!_ "Indeed!" she said. "In fact, the poor dear is actually suffering from..." She took the time to look at Crowley again. "Serpentitis."

Somewhere in the universe, a doctor was crying. Probably Raphael.

Michael could almost _feel_ Crowley glaring at her, and perhaps rightfully so for once. _Serpentitis! What was I thinking!?_

Jane finally relaxed as she raised an eyebrow. "Serpentitis?"

Michael nodded and then nudged Crowley, who got the hint. "Yeah... uh... no cure, unfortunately, but I've managed this far!"

Jane slowly nodded, still staring. "Uh-huh..."

After a moment, Crowley patted Jane's shoulder. "Right, well, it's been... uh... _nice_... getting to know you, Miss Smith, but I really _must_ be going now! Good day to you both." He sauntered out the door as fast as he could afterwards.

 _Thank God!_ Once he was gone, Michael turned back to Jane and smiled. "Right, then! Let's get to organizing the rest of the shop, shall we?"

Jane nodded, as she usually did when Michael gave her orders, but now there was a certain hesitance to it as well. "Of course, Michelle."

Michelle. _Not_ Miss Goodwin. _It's okay_ , Michael reassured herself. _She's just in shock._

Jane then squared her shoulders, her grip on the bottle of water only seeming to grow tighter as she began to walk past her. But then she stopped. "By the way, Miss Goodwin?" she said without turning around.

"Y-yes, dear?"

"I do hope you realize that your lies are only getting worse."


	43. Chapter 43

"So, what exactly do you want me to do?"

"Just stand there in the circle and hope I don't kill you."

"Oh, _is that all_?"

Nithael rolled her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic, Haniel."

_Says the one not being experimented on!_ It'd been six days since he made his deal with Nithael and only two since they finally got started on... whatever it was the demon was trying to do. Haniel still wasn't quite sure _what_ he'd gotten himself into exactly, other than it somehow involved his wings and surprisingly large amounts of holy water. His first thought had been that perhaps Nithael was trying to find a way to reverse the effects of Falling, but then almost immediately dismissed it. All demons resented God, why would that change now?

_Still would be nice, though._ It'd certainly help with his own situation, at least.

"Okay," Nithael said, her wings displayed while she summoned her staff before pointing it at the bowl of holy water that was near Haniel's feet. "Tell me if you feel any tingling. Or stinging. Or even just—"

"Nithael, if you keep on talking, I'm more than happy to just throw the water at you."

"Okay, okay! Satan, you're tetchy today!"

_I_ _wonder_ _why that is._

A moment later, the demon set her knees apart and began to speak in a language that was completely foreign to Haniel's ears. Soon, the water levitated and swirled around the principality, but it wasn't close enough to actually touch him.

_Yet_ , he thought. _Please make this quick Nithael._ Then he closed his eyes, anticipating the stinging and burning that would surely last for hours. And if his mostly white wings were any indication, hopefully it would still be only that.

Still, perhaps he should've left the other principalities a note on what they should do in his absence before he left Heaven.

Perhaps he should've suggested doing this in an open field instead, rather than in his own private study, where her scent would surely by detected by any angel who was nearby.

And perhaps he should've just told Raphael the truth when Gabriel brought him over, instead of avoiding them both since then with the excuse of going over his own rank's portion of the grievances on his own, which didn't really make much sense now that he thought about it.

Haniel willed himself to relax after unclenching his fists. He would be fine, and there would be time to sort everything out later. _Just think happy thoughts until then..._ Things like spending time with his loved ones, and serving God, and...

_God._

The one who'd surely cursed him, and _for what_? Taking justice into his own hands? All he'd ever done was try to do the right thing, why should that be a crime? And why only _him_? Why not Gabriel, or any of the other seraphim?

 _And it's not like She's so benevolent Herself!_ There wasn't a single angel in Heaven who wasn't aware of Her cruelty. _Yet She claims Herself to be loving._ Perhaps Nithael really _did_ have a point when she tried to accuse Heaven of hypocrisy. And when was the last time anyone had actually heard from God anyway, save for perhaps the Metatron? Or had She abandoned Her angels entirely, leaving them to fend for themselves until—

"H-Haniel..."

Shame washed over him as the principality opened his eyes just as he heard water splash on the floor. And for a moment, he was afraid his Fallen sister had picked up on his negativity... until he saw the paleness on her face and the dullness in her eyes, staff no longer in hand.

And perhaps it was due to his morals or because he still had just a grain of care for her, but Haniel stepped over the puddle of holy water almost immediately, just in time to catch her from falling. "It's okay," he said softly while bringing her to a chair. "You're fine, Nithael. You're safe."

Nithael's only response was a soft groan as she put her head down on Haniel's desk. "Do I _look_ fine?" she said a moment later; apparently even in her weakened state, she still had her sharp tongue. Because of course she did.

Haniel decided to take this as a _thank you_.

"Do you feel any burns or aches?" he asked.

The demon gave her head a weak shake, her eyes beginning to droop. "Just tired... Very, very tired..." And then she drew a shallow breath and shut her eyes.

Panic spiked through Haniel as he gave he tried to shake her awake. _Please just be sleeping!_ But his worries quickly subsided when he saw Nithael's body rise and fall and then heard soft purrs coming from her. _Thank... someone,_ he thought as he miracled a blanket to drape over her shoulders, surprised by the concern her felt for her.

But then again, they were supposed to be helping each other, weren't they? _Of course_ he'd feel concerned for her! That was all this was.

"Hopefully she gets her strength back soon," Haniel told himself while miracling away the water and bucket before grabbing the demon's staff—the very same staff she had when she'd still been a full angel. It was darker now, likely due to her change in allegiance, but that seemed to be the only thing about it that had changed in the six thousand years since the First Fall. Even the gold, levitating orb on top still held its bright celestial glow.

But if she still had her staff, did that mean she still had her crown with her as well? She hadn't actually been in her true form during the experiment, but perhaps...

Haniel shook his head and placed the object on his desk. What did it matter to him if she still had her angelic items or not? If there was one thing he could still take away from Michael's lessons, it was that he couldn't afford to feel sentimental towards the Enemy. And especially not when the possibility of a war with Hell was still very much open.

Aziraphale and Crowley were the _exception_ to angels and demons putting their differences aside for good, not the rule.

 _Doesn't mean I still can't sit with her until she wakes._ That was okay, right? _Someone_ needed to keep an eye on her, after all. It only made sense for it to be him.

And then Haniel jumped out of his seat when he heard a knock on the door.

"Haniel?" The voice sounded like Raphael's.

"Coming," the principality replied, the illusion sinking in as he walked towards the door. _If Raphael sees her, she's_ dead! _Literally!_ He plastered on a smile by the time the door was ajar, only his head popping out when he came face-to-face with his partner. "Hello, darling," he said with as much sweetness as he could. "To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing your lovely face?"

Perhaps he was overdoing it just a bit, but at least Raphael seemed amused by it. "I just wanted to see how you were doing with you portion. Do you need any help, or...?"

Haniel quickly shook his head. "Oh, no, no, no! I have everything under control here! Really."

Raphael frowned and he seemed ready to speak again, until his nose scrunched. "Is there something evil in your study?" he asked.

Haniel briefly glanced back. Part of him wanted to deny smelling anything at all, but that just sounded stupid. "Oh, you must mean the carrion flowers!" He mentally slapped himself as soon as the words left his lips. _Carrion flowers! Really!_

Raphael didn't seem to believe him anyway. "Carrion... Are you _trying_ to attract bugs? Or Death?"

Haniel gave a nervous laugh. "Oh, very funny, dear. But really, I'm just trying to get into the... er... spirit of All Hallows Eve!"

"But we don't even celebrate it. Well, except for giving out candy, I suppose."

"Yes, well, first time for everything! And besides," he added, finally stepping outside, "this is really more so for the children anyway. You know how much they love to stop by here for candy."

Raphael took a few steps back. "If that's the case, I'm pretty sure they're more likely to _run away_ from the house this year."

"Oh, that means I'm doing my job, then!"

Raphael still seemed disgusted by the smell, but managed a tiny smile. "Just make sure to keep your death flowers away from _my_ herbs, alright?"

"No promises," Haniel teased before kissing his partner, only for Raphael to deepen the kiss after wrapping his arms around the principality and bringing him closer to him.

Haniel let out a wistful sigh once the kiss broke. "I love you," he murmured while resting his head on Raphael's chest. _"So much."_ He wished it could always be this way, just them being affectionate without any of the tension that seemed to be between them for the past month.

They could just be themselves here on Earth, away from all the celestial politics. And perhaps it would be selfish to suggest staying on Earth permanently, to retire and spend the rest of their lives in Italy... Selfish, as well as foolish. Because they both needed to go back to Heaven at _some_ point.

 _I can never tell him the truth, can I?_ Haniel realized. The bliss would come to an end eventually, but that didn't mean he had to spend the rest of eternity with everyone hating him. More than they already did, anyway.

"Haniel?" Concern laced Raphael's voice. "Darling, are you crying?"

 _Huh?_ Haniel touched his face, only to find it wet. "Sorry," he quickly muttered while Raphael handed him a handkerchief.

"Are you alright?" the healer asked, placing a hand on the principality's shoulder while Haniel dried his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine," Haniel insisted. "Really." Clearing his throat, he then said, "But enough about me. How are you and Gabriel handling things?" _Probably struggling with coming up with solutions for the lower spheres, no doubt._

Raphael looked surprised by the change in subject, but then said, "Everything's going well... I think."

Haniel laughed. "You _think_?"

"Let's just say it'd be better if we got your opinion on things."

 _Aw, he appreciates me!_ "Okay, what do you have so far?"

"Well, Gabriel agrees with my idea about the others getting higher wages."

"That's great!" Maybe his nemesis was beginning to come around after all.

And then Raphael glanced away. "But he'll only get the paperwork for it done if it's just for those who are still in support of him."

 _Never mind, that petty bastard!_ "Well, you can tell Gabriel he can take his wage plan and shove it—"

Raphael quickly interrupted him. "Dearest, I know you don't like him, but really. But I knew you'd disagree, so I'll try to talk him into reconsidering. Again." He let a deep sigh as he said this, as though he couldn't think of anything worse. "Are you sure you don't wish to join us?"

"I'm sure!" Haniel quickly replied. Beginning to step back inside, he added, "In fact, I _really_ should be getting back to my share. I just work better alone. You understand, right?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Great! Love you!" Haniel shut the door before Raphael could get another word in. _Oh, thank God, that's over!_ he thought as he slumped against the door. Hopefully his partner wouldn't knock again.

"You really need to stop doing that." Nithael's voice was soft and her movements slow when she approached him, blanket wrapped around her. "Kissing up to the Archangels, I mean."

Haniel ignored her comment. "You should be resting," he said, beginning to stand, until Nithael sat down beside him.

"And I will," she said. " _After_ I tell you how stupid it is for you to try and play for both sides."

Haniel rolled his eyes. Why should he listen to anything this demon had to say?

Instead of continuing, Nithael pulled out a scroll from her pocket. "I meant to give this to you, by the way. It's Azazel's final letter before he Fell."

Haniel grinned and snatched the correspondence from her hands hands. "Er, thanks," he quickly muttered and then began reading in silence.

_Dearest friend,_

_It would seem I shall be joining you sooner than either of us expected. It is with a conflicted heart when I say that my wings are not what they used to be. It was the strangest thing, really. One minute, I'm preening them. The next, I see a few bottom feathers beginning to darken._

Haniel gasped. This was it! _He clearly didn't actually regret it, though._ But then, what did he expect from someone who'd been exchanging messages with the Other Side for so many centuries?

_On the bright side, I hope to not go alone. Yesterday, I found Samyaza with a human girl. One from Enoch's tribe, I think._

_Wait, wait, wait. Enoch?_ He knew the Metatron had known the Watchers before the Second Fall, but he hadn't known exactly to what extent. And yet, he was now filled with more questions than answers. _Ones that I can look into later._ Brushing the curiosity aside, he kept on reading.

_He seems to be quite smitten with this woman. I see the others have grown fond of the humans as well. Too fond, if you ask me. But, oh, they're all so reluctant to go any further with these new companions of theirs. And we can't have that, can we? Perhaps a trip to Mount Hernon will give them just the push they need._

_I anticipate our next meeting._

_Sincerely,_   
_Azazel_

Like the others before them, Haniel only felt disgust after reading. "I just don't understand how anyone could turn their back on Heaven like this!" Remembering Nithael, he added, "Er, no offense."

She shrugged and took the letter back. "None taken."

"It's just... I thought he loved her."

"God or Michael?"

Haniel was about to say the latter, but the more he thought about it... "Both, I guess."

Nithael sighed. "We all did. And then we didn't. I'd expected you of all angels to understand that by now, brother."

Haniel stiffened. Had she sensed his negativity after all?

"Anyway," Nithael continued, "back to what I said about you being a kiss-up."

The principality scoffed and shoved her. "Raphael is my _partner_ , in case you've forgotten!"

"And yet, you can't even tell him the truth about your wings."

Her words lingered in his ears, and he found himself hating the demon even more for being right. "I'll tell him when I'm ready!" he snapped.

Nithael was completely indifferent towards his anger. "Yeah, sure. Okay." Then she let out another sigh, but it almost seemed like she was struggling not to yawn. "You're a lousy revolutionary, you know that?"

For whatever reason, he couldn't help but be amused instead of annoyed. "And _you're_ a lousy scientist," he retorted as he scooted closer, the blanket enveloping them both.

"Well, then, maybe we can be lousy together..." And then the demon rested her head on Haniel's shoulder and closed her eyes once more.

It was perhaps the closest the two had been in a very long time.


	44. Chapter 44

* * *

"Wait, wait, wait. _Carrion_ flowers? Seriously?"

"I know. I didn't really believe him, either."

Gabriel was struggling not to laugh. It almost sounded like that Jeffrey Archer excuse Aziraphale used on him that one time, so he couldn't really be _too_ harsh. "You think he might be hiding something?"

Raphael was silent for a moment, and then said, "I don't know, maybe? But why would he hide _anything_ from me?"

Gabriel shrugged. "Well, he hid his revolution plans from you, didn't he?"

"You're not helping."

"Was I supposed to?" Placing a hand on his brother's shoulder, he added, "Look, Raph, I know you love him, but I think it's time you realized your partner may not be all that trustworthy." The healer had to face the music sooner or later, surely?

But Raphael simply waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, you and your conspiracy theories! I suppose next you're going to tell me that the world is flat or vaccines are harmful. Speaking of, do you even know how many humans I've gotten into fights over it? Not literal ones, mind you, but..."

_Oh great, he's rambling!_ "Why don't we just continue with the solutions?" Gabriel suggested. Any more, and his brother would likely go on a tangent regarding the importance of bees or some other mundane topic.

Raphael awkwardly cleared his throat. "Ah, yes! Of course. By the way, Haniel hates your wage plan."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. Why wasn't he surprised? " _Of course_ he does. Did he at least say why?"

"I think it had something to do with, oh I don't know, only wanting to give your supporters higher pay. Which, by the way, there aren't alot of anymore."

If there was one thing Gabriel hadn't missed during his time away from Heaven, it was his brother's bluntness. "Please, it only makes sense to reward those who haven't strayed from their duties. Then if the others want more—and they _will_ —they're just going to have to prove their loyalty first by working harder."

"So, technically not that different from the way things have been, then?" Raphael asked dryly. "And you know they can always just keep on protesting, right? Besides, I thought you _wanted_ to earn Haniel's trust."

"Which would probably be much easier if he wasn't such a recluse," Gabriel replied in an equally dry tone. "But fine, I'll reconsider, if you're both so bothered by it." Perhaps the loyalists could get only _slightly_ higher pay instead.

Raphael nodded. "Thank you. Now, while we're still on general solutions, I was thinking giving Heaven access to Eden."

Gabriel stared at the older Archangel as though he was crazy. And he probably was. "Absolutely not!" the messenger snapped. "In fact, wasn't it _your_ idea that the place be for humans _only_?" 

It wasn't the _real_ Eden, of course— _that_ one had been destroyed not long after the Expulsion—but was instead an almost exact replica of the Garden, save for the infamous Trees. A gift from Abel to his rather controversial parents. Since then, any and all supernatural beings were forbidden from entering it; it was meant to be for the angels' sound of mind as much as it was for Eve's.

So then why was Raphael suddenly so insistent on going back on his own rule?

"Indeed it was," Raphael said calmly. "But so much time has passed since then, Gabriel, and Eve has long since forgiven herself. It'd be a good place for history lessons, I think. And also offer some food variety."

Gabriel grimaced. "Food variety?" _Seriously, what's wrong with manna?_

Raphael looked annoyed by his brother's reaction. "Relax, will you? The fruit of Eden technically counts as celestial food, doesn't it?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"Then you've nothing to complain about."

Raphael couldn't have been more wrong, but Gabriel didn't bother arguing this time. Instead, the younger Archangel simply nodded, however reluctantly. He'd be back in charge sooner or later, but for now, he'd pretend to relent. And besides, at least they were getting _something_ done. "Okay," he said. "I guess we can try it out."

Raphael smiled gratefully. "That's all I ask. And with that, I think that's it for the general things for now."

"Great!" Gabriel said as enthusiastically as he could. "What's next?"

"Hm." Raphael glanced at the papers. "I _did_ want to work on the principalities, but Haniel still has that stack."

_Good!_ His brother's partner was actually doing something right for a change. The last thing Gabriel wanted was to read even more angels complaining about him. "Less work for us though, right?" He laughed at his own joke, but stopped soon after when Raphael didn't join in.

In fact, the healer seemed to be in a different world entirely.

"Uh, Raphael?"

The other angel shook his head. "Sorry," he said. "Just thinking."

"About Haniel?"

"Am I that obvious?"

Gabriel soon scooted closer to hug him. "Come here." He and Raphael had their many, _many_ differences, but at the end of the day, he was still his brother. And yet, seeing him so upset only made him hate Haniel even more. _Why don't they just break up?_ So many of his problems would probably be solved if that happened.

His thoughts were soon interrupted when he heard Raphael sobbing.

_Oh, no. Not the suit!_ "Hey," Gabriel said gently when he pulled away from his brother. "It's going to be okay." _Mostly for me if they keep up like this._

"I-it's not that," Raphael said after miracling a handkerchief. "I'm pretty sure some idiot just made a really bad attempt of coming up with a name for a fake disease." He laughed weakly after the tears stopped and then cleared his throat. "But you're right, this is only temporary. He seemed quite upset earlier, though."

"You sure it wasn't because someone didn't use the incorrect Italian word or something?"

Once again, Raphael wasn't amused.

"Right, sorry." Then Gabriel asked, "Any idea what could be wrong with him?" Maybe it had to do with whatever it was the principality was hiding.

Raphael shrugged. "I don't know. I originally thought it had something to do with our anniversary—"

"Wait, since when are you _married_?" Gabriel didn't even try hiding his horror. _No wonder they don't want to separate!_

_Now_ the healer seemed amused. "Since never? It's simply the anniversary of the start of our relationship, little brother. Although I'll be sure to invite you to the ceremony if things ever go further."

_Assuming I'd even want to go!_ He knew Raphael was only joking, but the idea of his brother actually marrying Haniel made him feel just about as comfortable as the thought of Aziraphale doing the same with Crowley. So, not at all. Never mind that angelic weddings were completely unheard of anyway.

"But as I was saying," Raphael continued, "it can't possibly be that. Our anniversary isn't even until October 7th anyway."

Gabriel silently glanced at the calendar nearby. "Raph?"

"Hm?"

"It _is_ the seventh."

"What? No, it isn't!" Raphael quickly took out his phone and his face soon fell.

"It's the seventh?"

"It's the seventh." Groaning, he added, "And I'm a terrible boyfriend. I guess I can scramble something together really quickly, though. Maybe a candlelight dinner... And, oh! We haven't been to Venice in some time. Perhaps—"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Gabriel shook his head and frowned. "Aren't you forgetting something, Raph?" He tilted his head towards the unread papers.

Raphael followed his gaze and smiled sheepishly. "Er, right. Sorry." A pause, and then he asked, "I don't suppose we could read through these later? Haniel and I would only be gone for a few hours."

Gabriel bristled. He still considered Raphael to _usually_ be a sensible angel on most days, but when it came to Haniel, it was like his brother had become someone completely different.

But then again, _a few hours_. Enough time to find out what the principality was hiding in his study. _Carrion flowers! Yeah, right!_ And it wasn't like Gabriel himself was a snoop, but now simply wasn't the time to be keeping secrets. After all, if even _Raphael_ didn't believe his own partner, that probably said something.

Raphael's voice soon interrupted his thoughts. "No, no, you're probably right. It'd be irresponsible of me, and—"

"Go ahead!"

"What?"

"Yeah!" Gabriel stood and wrapped an arm around Raphael. "Go on and have a date night. You deserve it, and besides, it'll probably encourage Haniel to help us out more directly."

Raphael started to grin, but then his face turned into something more unreadable. "You just want to look into his study, don't you?"

Gabriel briefly considered denying it, but the thought was quickly gone. "Well, aren't _you_ a bit curious as well?"

"That doesn't mean breaking into his room without his permission!" Raphael gave an annoyed sighed while pinching the bridge of his nose. "But fine. I can already tell there's no talking you out of this plan anyway."

"That's the spirit!" It really did feel nice to win every now and then.

* * *

"I really don't see why we can't just have dinner here instead. Besides, I don't even like human food as much as you do."

"I told you, it's a special day."

"For _you_ , maybe."

A smirk tugged at Gabriel's lips as the couple went back-and-forth while he hid his face behind the local newspaper. Given Haniel's confusion however, he didn't think the principality had remembered his own anniversary, either.

"At least tell me what the occasion is."

_Yeah, there we go._ Gabriel briefly glanced up in time to see Raphael flinch and give a forced smile. A rather pitiful sight as far as he was concerned, though it wasn't like the older Archangel had any room to cast the first stone, either.

Realization slowly dawned on Haniel's face. "Oh God, it's our anniversary, isn't it?"

Raphael nodded wordlessly with a look of love and sympathy.

The principality rubbed his temple and groaned. "Sorry I'm such a jerk," he said.

Raphael simply kissed his partner's cheek and said, "You can make it up to me later. Now come, I already made reservations and I'd hate for Gabriel to have yet another overdramatic reaction to the thought of our kind _daring_ to consume human food."

"Hey!" Gabriel finally set the paper down to glare at the laughing pair. "You have your preferences, I have mine!"

"Then maybe you should stop judging," Haniel said between laughs while Raphael shot his brother an apologetic glance. "But fine, let's get going," the principality continued. "And _don't touch anything_ , Gabriel! Or else!"

"Yeah, yeah, sure." If Haniel—a _principality_ —thought he could intimidate him, he was dreaming. "Now go and enjoy your date, lovebirds."

Haniel shot the younger Archangel one last suspicious glance before finally walking out the door.

Raphael trailed not far behind, but stopped at the doorway to look at Gabriel. _Two hours_ , he mouthed, guilt in his eyes. And then he was gone.

* * *

It hadn't been that difficult to get into Haniel's study—the fool hadn't even bothered to lock the door, much less put up a protective barrier over it. Not that either would've done much good anyway.

"Okay, let's see what you're hiding, traitor."

But upon entering the study, everything seemed completely normal—oak walls decorated with golden spirals, a red rug that seemed to have been recently miracled into existence, a wide shelf filled to the brim with books, and two chairs on either side of the large desk. And not a single carrion flower in sight.

Yet the all-too-familiar scent of evil still lingered.

And there was also purring. Lots of it.

_What?_

Then he saw it upon stepping further inside—there, on the nearest chair, was a sleeping black kitten.

_Since when does Haniel have a cat?_ Gabriel thought as he stared the small ball of fluff. But more importantly, _why_ did Haniel have a cat? There didn't seem to be much of a point to it, considering their lives were even shorter than that of an average human's.

But the closer he got to the animal, the stronger the evil scent became. Did Haniel get the feline from _Hell_ or something?

The cat's ears soon twitched and it stirred awake, lifting its head to stare at Gabriel with piercing black-flecked green eyes afterwards. It didn't appear hostile at all, only curious, but the Archangel still made sure to keep his distance. "Er, nice kitty."

The cat simply stretched before hopping onto the desk, and it almost seemed to be amused by Gabriel's hesitance. Which was when the Archangel realized just how ridiculous he was being. _I saved Daniel from_ lions _, for Heaven's sake!_ He should be able to handle the king of beasts' much smaller relative, regardless of where it came from.

But for now, it posed no threat. On the contrary, it was rather adorable. And still potentially dangerous. _Yeah, no._ A piece of rope, one short enough to tie around the kitten's paw soon appeared in Gabriel's hand. Death by possible hellcat—or whatever the thing was—didn't seem like the most dignified way to go. Besides, it was better to be safe than sorry. "C'mere, kitty."

But as he got closer, Gabriel noticed something else that was perhaps even more off-putting than an unusual scent—its aura, or more like the fact that it had one at all. _Demon,_ he concluded, for it couldn't possibly be human or angelic. So then there'd be no guilt in hurting them. And yes, there was that whole ceasefire that stood between the two sides, but something told him Satan wouldn't actually care if one of his followers got injured or worse.

Still, hopefully the creature was only of low ranking.

The demon must've sensed his suspicion however, because they were suddenly alert and then unsheathed their claws before letting out a hiss.

_Overdramatic much?_ Gabriel thought as he produced a holy dagger. "Come on, show yourself!" he demanded, pointing the weapon towards the demon. "And tell me what you're doing here."

The demon's eyes were on the dagger for several seconds, as though trying to analyze how to disarm the angel currently threatening them. But then they sheathed in their claws and sat on their haunches again, and then their appearance slowly began to morph into a young woman-shaped being.

She was paler now and looked like she just really wanted to get back to sleeping, but it didn't take long for Gabriel to recognize her.

"N-Nithael?" Well, now he really did have no choice but to kill her.

"You're no fun, you know that?"

Gabriel ignored her comment, still pointing the dagger at her. He wouldn't allow her to do what she'd done to Michael. "How dare you show your face here?"

She didn't seem frightened at all, or perhaps she was simply hiding it underneath all her indifference. "Relax, will you? And I'm really not in the mood right now, Gabriel. Just wait until Haniel gets back or something."

"Haniel _knows_ you're here?" He'd hoped his suspicions were wrong, but now here Nithael was, practically confirming it. _I knew he was a traitor, but..._ Had this all been a _trap_? "Was he in on your plan to turn Michael human, then?"

Nithael began to lie down on the desk. "Have you always been this paranoid?" she asked, staring at the ceiling. "But no. It was all me. And Satan, I guess, though he's sure to take credit if the rest of Hell finds out."

That certainly sounded like something his Fallen brother would do.

"As for your first question, yes. But not for the reasons you may think."

"Liar!" Gabriel's hold on the dagger only tightened.

Nithael lazily waved a hand, as though to shoo him away. "Believe what you want. But if I really wanted to hurt you, I probably would've done it by now."

_"Probably?"_

"Look, in case you haven't noticed, I'm really weak right now, Gabriel. So if you can just come back later, that'd be _great_!"

Nithael was right, she _was_ weak. _Which means..._

"Don't even think about it!" The demon let out an irritated growl as she sat back up. "You're annoyingly persistent, you know that?"

"So I've been told," Gabriel said dryly. "At least let me interrogate you."

Nithael groaned. "Fine! But after this, you have to leave me alone. And no—"

She was interrupted the moment he tied her wrists together.

"—bindings."

Gabriel ignored her glare. "Just making a precaution," he said. "But yes, I _do_ promise to leave you alone after this." This didn't count as a Deal, right? Setting his worries aside, he sat in the chair in front of her and miracled a pen and paper. "So, first of all, why?"

"Getting right to the point, are we?" She laughed weakly. "Three reasons: one, it amused me. Second, Satan needed a backup plan. And third, this also served as revenge against Heaven."

"For the Fall?"

Nithael nodded. "Well, yes. But also for sending the Tenth Plague."

_The Tenth Pla—oh, no._ He knew some demons had produced children in the past, but he didn't think Nithael had been one of them. She didn't really strike him as the motherly type, nor did she actually seem that bothered regarding the loss of her child, judging by her casual tone. Or maybe she really was just _that_ tired. Regardless, he refused to be sympathetic; one less cambion in the universe was a good thing. "I didn't know you were in Egypt at that time."

Nithael shrugged. "An assignment's an assignment. I'd hoped to bring up my son to become the next Pharaoh, but... well... you know what happened next..."

Gabriel nodded as he wrote the information down. "So, if revenge was part of it, why did you wait so long?"

For once, there was a twinkle in her eye. "Oh, I have _you_ to thank for that, actually."

_"Me?"_ What was she talking about?

Nithael giggled, as though about to tell a really good joke. "You see, while I _could have_ just burned a few angels here and there to teach Michael a lesson, I quickly realized how reckless that would be. So, when I heard how you were cast out for a time after disobeying God—"

Gabriel jumped out of his seat, nearly knocking over the chair. "Th-that long?"

"Ooh, did I hit a nerve?"

He barely heard her mockery as he tried to center himself. God had forgiven him long ago. There were no fiery whips, no disappointed eyes, and he still had full access to every single one of his powers. And Dobiel hadn't become his proxy again. He was fine and safe and...

And he should've gotten over it by now. He hadn't felt like this when the incident had been brought up during that sham of a trial, so why now?

This wasn't his fault, was it?

"Anyway," Nithael said, snapping Gabriel out of his thoughts, "long story short, Satan approved of my idea and I only got it done recently. Like, maybe about a week before the trial recently."

Gabriel had calmed himself down by the time she finished talking. "And if you hadn't been arrested, would you have done the same to me and the others involved in Aziraphale's kidnapping and attempted execution?"

Nithael shrugged again. "Maybe, if I was asked. I genuinely thought Haniel and the others wanted me to get rid of Michael for them."

"Why in Heaven would any angel ask a demon to—wait, never mind, I hear it now!" Gabriel then let out a frustrated groan and rubbed his forehead. How had things gone so wrong?

A moment later, he felt Nithael pat his head. "Oh, there, there," she said. "I'm sure Michael will forgive you."

He scoffed as he looked at her again. "Forgive me?"

A smirk slowly crossed the demon's face while color returned to her cheeks, and she no longer seemed tired. "But of course! Think, will you? This never would've happened if you'd just left Aziraphale alone."

"We needed to—"

"Or had simply treated him and the rest of the third sphere better. Or had just obeyed Mother. Or—"

Gabriel growled. "Stop it!" He could easily gag her now that he'd gotten his answers. "And you've no right to call Her that!"

But Nithael simply kept on going. "Oh, and if we go even farther back, you can be blamed for the First Fall as well! Why, if you hadn't gotten in the way of Lucifer's attack—"

"Nithael..."

"—Michael wouldn't have activated her true form and—"

"I said STOP!" The lights in the room got brighter, and Gabriel almost didn't noticed he'd summoned his sword again as yet another demon was shot back by his energy blast. But unlike with Satan, he'd be sure not to show any mercy.

But as the brightness dissipated, Nithael started laughing again. "Oh, you really should learn to control you anger, messenger."

He soon saw what she'd found to be so amusing when she slowly stood. The bindings had come off.

"Now." Nithael grinned, staff in one hand and a fireball in the other. "Let's take this outside, shall we?"


	45. Chapter 45

They made sure to stop by the ruins first, and the feeling of sorrow hadn't gotten any easier to stomach. Perhaps not the best way to start a date, but Haniel insisted.

"We can come some other time if you want," Raphael suggested softly, placing a hand on Haniel's back while the principality lit a candle. "The anniversary of the eruption is still a few weeks away."

Haniel shook his head before kneeling on the ground. "It's fine, Raphael. _I'm_ fine." He hoped that sounded convincing. Just a few seconds of silence and then they could leave. And he knew it hadn't been his fault, no matter what Michael had said. He'd long since accepted that.

 _Still would've been nice to catch that demon, though._ He still wasn't entirely sure who'd been responsible for activating Mt. Vesuvius. But then, no one else did, either. Once, perhaps he would've been obsessed with trying to track down any trace of the infernal creature who'd caused so much suffering to get back in Michael's good graces, but those days were behind him.

 _These_ days, he had nothing to fear now. Well, nothing except for Falling and the threat of another civil war. But from what Raphael had told him, despite most angels avoiding each other and the occasional protest, things back Upstairs seemed to have mostly cooled down at least. Hopefully it stayed that way until the three angels returned.

And as for Falling... _I can worry about that later._ For now, it was time to pay his respects to his charge Lavinia, and to her husband Marcus, and to most of everyone else who perished during the eruption. But he couldn't forget the survivors, either, like Cornelius and Vettia. Not all hope had been lost that day, and even Lavinia's son had survived the destruction before converting to Christianity when he'd gotten older.

"Huh."

The more he thought about it, so had a few others as well.

Raphael lifted his head from prayer to look at him. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing, just..." Haniel hesitated. How much should he tell Raphael his theory? Not that it wouldn't have been that far-fetched, though. Angels were no strangers to God's wrath. "Okay, so," he continued a moment later, "what if there was a reason we never found that demon?"

Raphael still looked confused. "Because he returned to Hell as soon as Vesuvius erupted?" he suggested. It had been the most logical explanation at the time. "The Other Side claimed credit, remember?"

He did. But that didn't seem satisfying anymore. "Okay, but what if they were just saying that? The people of Pompeii and Herculaneum worshiped false gods, yes, but what would Hell have to gain from destroying a few civilizations that were essentially on their side? The demon could've been a coincidence."

"Hm." Raphael glanced at the direction of the volcano and then looked at Haniel again. "Why do demons do anything? But I suppose you may have a point. Not everything is the cause of supernatural creatures, so Vesuvius could've simply erupted all on her own."

"Maybe..."

"You have another theory?"

He nodded. "Just... you can't deny that the destruction served to be beneficial for us. I just remembered how a few survivors eventually converted to Christianity afterwards, and—"

"Haniel." Raphael's voice had grown cold. "I want you to really, _really_ think about what you're saying."

"I-I know what it sounds like, but—"

"No buts!" Then Raphael sighed and his face softened. "I'm not surprised you're still grieving, but I didn't think you'd start to blame _God_ for this. And I know She can be rather... strict sometimes, but She's not malevolent."

"I never said She was." She saved Aziraphale, after all. And probably Crowley as well. How could someone like that be evil? But that didn't mean She wouldn't do anything to lessen the Enemy's influence, either. Hadn't She already proven that time and time again?

"Well, it certainly sounds like it!" Raphael snapped. It looked like he wanted to say more, but then stopped himself. "I don't want to spend today arguing. Just pay your respects so we can leave."

Part of him wanted to protest, but he soon thought better of it. "Of course, Raphael," he said softly, doing his best to stifle his irritation. _Why did I think he would understand?_

The next few seconds were spent in silent prayer for all that had been lost thanks to Vesuvius. _Please don't let her erupt again_ , he added. The last thing he needed to deal with was more Earthly disasters, especially where Italy was concerned.

"Ready?" Raphael asked once Haniel opened his eyes. He seemed much calmer now.

The principality nodded after putting the candle out. "Sorry, by the way," he muttered.

Raphael caressed his cheek. "I am, too. What happened to the cities was horrible. It's only natural for you to try and blame someone for this." A pause, and then he said, "Just... don't blame it on the Creator, alright?"

Haniel nodded wordlessly. Perhaps Raphael had a point. It was just the grief talking. Grief, and perhaps his own personal resentment.

_Go on and tell him._

He shook the thought away and forced a grin as they left the ruins. "So, which restaurant are we going to?"

Raphael laughed. "If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?"

"But I don't even—wait, you forgot our anniversary too and couldn't actually get a table for us, could you?"

"In my defense, we've all been very busy lately!"

Haniel smiled and linked his arm with Raphael's. "You don't need to impress me. Just some alone time at home is enough."

"And to make sure Gabriel doesn't break anything?"

"Aw, you know me so well!" After kissing Raphael's cheek, he said, "But seriously, I'd much rather be at home this year. Oh, but maybe we could get Gabriel to cook for us instead!"

"Sure, unless you want the house to burn down," Raphael deadpanned. "And I don't mean from a failed attempt at making food, either."

"Spoilsport." Leaning his head against his partner, Haniel said, "I just hope the house is actually still in one piece." It was over a million years old and he couldn't stand the thought of rebuilding.

"He's an Archangel, darling," Raphael said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Not incompetent."

There was a difference?

"Anyway, I'm sure you have nothing to... worry.... about..."

Haniel pulled away when he noticed Raphael slowing his pace. "Everything okay, Raph?"

But rather than responding right away, the healer simply summoned his sword while his wings appeared. "There's a demon nearby," he said at last, a spark in his eyes. "And they're coming closer, I'm sure of it. Stay here. I'll go check it out."

Haniel's eyes widened in alarm. "Wait, demon? A-are you sure?"

Raphael didn't stay behind to answer.

 _Oh, what did you do_ now _, Nithael?_ At least, he _hoped_ it'd been Nithael whom Raphael had sensed. And something told him the carrion flowers excuse wouldn't work again. But if it was indeed his Fallen sister, what was she doing outside at all? _She's supposed to be resting!_

Well, there was only one way to find out.

With a sigh, Haniel began to untuck his own wings, but then immediately winched them back in. It was still twilight. _Coward!_ he scolded himself. _I guess waiting it is, then._ Besides, Nithael—or whoever the demon was—would surely come by this way. And when that happened, he just had to suck it up, fight them off if he needed to, and be mindful of the large fireball hurtling his way.

 _Wait, large fireba—ah, fiddlesticks!_ Both his own sword and staff immediately appeared in his hands, but before he could even use either to shield himself, something—some _one_ —pushed him back, just narrowly missing the ball's impact as it scorched the ground instead. And perhaps he would've been grateful, if the angel who'd saved him hadn't been the one he hated most.

"I had it under control, Gabriel!"

The Archangel didn't look at him as he quickly doused the rising flames with a vial of holy water. "That's a really funny way of saying _thank you_ ," he said.

 _Well, great to see he's not tired._ Judging from Gabriel's own sword and spread wings, Haniel guessed he'd been fighting the Fallen angel, and he was almost disappointed to see that there wasn't even a single hair out of place. "Where's Nithael?" He looked upward for a few seconds before turning back to Gabriel.

The Archangel narrowed his eyes when he finally looked at him. "Now how did you know it was _Nithael_ who attacked?"

Haniel took a few steps back. _Idiot!_ "Uh... well, I-I..."

"Don't even try coming up with an excuse, I already know she was in your study."

"Wait, you went into my study?"

"Although, I'd hoped you'd at least put more effort into denying it first."

 _"You went into my study!?"_ Was _nothing_ sacred anymore? "Are you seriously such an entitled, pompous brat that you can't even respect my own private rooms?"

Gabriel actually had the audacity to look annoyed. "Seriously, are _all_ principalities overdramatic? And anyway, you never said anything about that room being off-limits."

"It should've gone without saying!"

"And besides," Gabriel continued, as though Haniel hadn't spoken at all, "you were clearly hiding something, so naturally, I had to check it out."

Haniel rolled his eyes. "Naturally. Sure." _Now's not the time for this._ "You still never answered my question, though. _Where is Nithael_?"

Gabriel glanced upward. "Fighting Raphael, of course," he said, as though it should've been incredibly obvious. And in hindsight, perhaps it should've. " _I_ was doing just fine on my own, of course, but then he showed up and insisted I made sure you were safe."

Annoyance pricked at Haniel's skin. "I can take care of myself just fine!" Just because he hadn't hurt a single demon yet didn't make him useless!

Gabriel shrugged, though he didn't seem to be too happy about the situation, either. "Yeah, well, you know how he is," he said, clearly irritated. "But don't worry, he's got this."

 _It's not Raph I'm worried about._ Still, even Haniel had to admit it was nice seeing Gabriel having so much faith in his brother. Looking up again, he was able to just barely catch a pair of white and black streaks dancing across the pinkish sky in rapid motion, each trying to outdo the other.

"So," Gabriel began, "care to tell me _why_ Nithael was in your office in the first place?"

Haniel didn't need to look at him to tell he was suspicious. _Stay calm._ "My business is my business, Gabriel. You had no right to be snooping around."

"You know you're not really helping your case, right?" Then the older angel chuckled. "And just wait until your followers hear about this."

Haniel finally snapped his head to glare at him. "Don't you dare!" he growled. "I've done nothing wrong."

"Nothing except hide a demon from your superiors."

 _Superiors! Pah!_ "Just because you weren't punished doesn't mean you're still in charge."

Gabriel's eye twitched while his face broke into a wide grin. "And yet I still _vastly_ outrank you." Stepping forward, he added, "So, seeing as I am indeed _still_ your superior in that regard, I'll ask you again, _principality_ : _what_ was the demon Nithael doing in your study?"

Haniel backed away again the closer Gabriel got. Both his sword and staff were still at the ready, but much as he hated Gabriel, he couldn't attack him. Not unless the Archangel attacked first. _But he wouldn't_ actually _do that, would he?_ Then again, he also hadn't expected for Gabriel to attempt murder and fight his own brother, either, so anything was possible at this point.

Gabriel's face softened. "I'm not going to hurt you, Haniel," he said gently. "Just tell me the truth. And if you're in any trouble, I promise to do whatever I can to help you."

The scariest part was that he actually _sounded_ convincing. But Haniel knew better by now. With a shake of his head, the principality said, "Your... concern is noted, Gabriel, but I absolutely insist that everything is under control."

Gabriel's grip on his sword only seemed to tighten. "Clearly." After a moment, he sighed before flapping his wings. "Keep your secrets, then," he said once his feet were only inches from the ground. "But if you're indeed still loyal to Heaven, I trust you'll at least help with fighting Nithael off."

Haniel shuffled his foot. "Oh. Um... I thought you were going to leave that to Raphael?"

Gabriel's eyes shined brightly. "What, and let him take _all_ of the glory in avenging Michael? Besides, don't you want to show him what you can do? Come on. It'll be fun!"

 _He wants me to fight alongside him?_ Something was wrong. Did he suspect something?

When Haniel didn't follow, Gabriel's friendly demeanor quickly vanished. "What's wrong with you?" he snapped. "You're an angel, for God's sake! _Act like it_!"

"I-I..." His mouth felt dry, and he could say no more while his stomach tangled up in knots. This seemed so familiar, a seraph looming over him and scolding him for inadequacy. And so near the city of ash as well. But Gabriel wasn't Michael. _He's worse._ At least with Michael, he knew perfectly well what she was capable of. And if there was anyone who couldn't know the truth, it was Gabriel.

"Well?" The Archangel was growing even more impatient.

Finally, Haniel found his voice again. "It's just... three against one. Don't you think that's rather unfair?" A stupid reason, but what else could he have said?

Unsurprisingly, Gabriel thought so as well. _"Unfair?"_ he echoed in disbelief. "Are you so inept that you've forgotten who the Enemy is? What they're capable of?"

"Of course not, but—"

 _"Useless!"_ Gabriel spat. "That's what you are! And that's what you'll always be." Then he looked towards the ruins, and there was something dark and cruel in his eyes when he looked at the principality again. "You couldn't even protect your precious city."

Haniel flinched as the orb on top of his staff was just beginning to heat up. _How dare he, how_ dare _he!_ But the principality was no fool. He knew he was being goaded on. But why? "What exactly do you know?" he asked, a growl rumbling in his throat.

Gabriel almost looked frustrated that he didn't take the bait. "I know you were hiding Nithael in your study," he said. "She says you weren't involved in what happened to Michael."

"But you don't believe her."

" _God_ , no!" Gabriel's face contorted with rage, and Haniel didn't think he'd ever seen such intense hatred on an angel before. "Why would I? And you're a traitor either way, putting your own personal feelings above Heaven. You're no better than the Fallen!"

 _Fallen..._ He didn't know, then. Not yet. "That's not true!" Haniel silently cursed himself for the tremble in his voice. He could feel the illusion slowly ebbing away. _I need to get out of here!_

Gabriel let out a mirthless laugh. "You keep telling yourself that, little prince. Now," he added, flashing the principality one of his usual charming smiles, the one that always made him seem far too arrogant. All while pointing his sword at him. "We can either do this the easy way or the hard way. Okay, sunshine? Because one way or another, I'm going to get the truth out of you _today_. Even if I have to fight you for it."

Haniel knew he wasn't bluffing. Gabriel had already fought Raphael last month, so what was a principality to him but a mere nuisance? _But I can't take him on all on my own._ He'd been trained in combat, like all angels had, but the sessions had always been set up in a way that usually ensured victory for the first sphere. Michael had made sure of that.

But that didn't mean he still couldn't try. He still had his wits, after all. His secret had to stay safe, no matter the cost. And accidents happened all the time, right? _Lure him out, blame it on a demon..._ Gabriel had disgraced Heaven for far too long, it only made sense for him to pay the ultimate price.

But perhaps the pompous Archangel had been right about one thing. Perhaps he really _was_ no better than a Fallen angel.

He hoped God was watching. _Do You see the situation You've put me in, Mother?_

But before their swords could clash, before he could lure his opponent away and blind him with the orb's light and do what had once been the unthinkable, a holy dagger shot between them, causing Haniel to drop his staff as he jumped back in surprise.

"What do you two think you're doing!?" Raphael shrieked from above, wings beating against the setting sun. Somehow, he didn't look tired, and much like his brother, you couldn't even tell he'd been fighting at all.

In contrast, Nithael looked worse for wear, with blonde hair all tangled up and her own wings looking disheveled. Her black clothes were a complete mess as well, shredded in some areas, and they were covered with what appeared to be bloodstains. Raphael must've been toying with her, just as he'd done in his early days of demon slaying. Yet she still kept that wide, cat-like grin of hers. Had she guessed what her angelic brother had wanted to do?

Raphael landed beside them. "Have you both lost your minds!?" he asked furiously. "Can't I trust you two to get along for even _a few minutes_? You're not squabs anymore."

Gabriel spoke first. "Raph, I know this looks bad, but—"

"Looks bad? Ha!" The older Archangel began to pace around before whirling on Haniel. "And you! I'm well aware that you and Gabriel have your differences, I _know_ what he's done, but must you engage in such aggressive behavior yourself?"

Haniel didn't dare point out his hypocrisy. _Sure._ I'm _aggressive._ Come to think of it, had Raphael always been a hypocrite? _Some anniversary this is turning out to be!_

Raphael heaved a sigh and rubbed his forehead, as though trying to force himself to calm down. "Go back to Heaven, both of you," he said softly, yet his fury was still present, however quiet it was. "I expect you both to tell the Son what has transpired today."

For whatever reason, Gabriel almost seemed uncomfortable at the mention of his former charge. "Raphael, if you would just let me explain. I told you the demon was in Haniel's study, remember?"

Haniel's eyes widened. _He knew too?_

Raphael shook his head in frustration. "I don't want to hear it right now, Gabriel! Because in case you've forgotten, _Nithael_ is the enemy here!"

 _Nithael!_ Why hadn't she just left as soon as she was feeling better? Had this been her plan all along? _Maybe I can throw my sword at her from here,_ Haniel thought.

When he looked back at her however, he noticed demon was still gazing at the angels with undisguised glee. And in her hand was another fireball. But it wasn't her weapon of choice that had filled him dread.

It was _who_ she was aiming _at_.

"Raphael, look out!"

What happened next had happened quickly, with Haniel pushing his beloved partner out of the way, just before the fireball could strike him. He barely heard Raphael's anguished scream as he begged for Gabriel to let him go while the principality burned.

Except he _wasn't_ burning.

Of course he wasn't.

And in a way, the fire was strangely comforting for something that had come from Hell. But most of all, he felt _powerful_ as he embraced the warmth. Fire sometimes equated to destruction, yet here he was, immune to the flames. And with enough practice, he'd be able to control them. There was no reason why he couldn't use this power to Heaven's advantage. _Try again, Nithael!_ He would literally fight fire with fire if it meant keeping his loved ones safe.

But the demon didn't attack again, and it soon became clear that she wasn't even going to try. And then there was a gleam of triumph in her eyes.

_No... no!_

She _had_ planned this. Even while losing, she still won.

From above, Nithael cackled. "Bye, bye, losers!" she shouted in a singsong voice, and then she vanished in a puff of smoke.

Gabriel was the first to break the silence as the fire died down. "H-Haniel... what in God's name have you _done_?"

 _What_ have _I done?_ The question lingered as he turned to face the brothers, both of whom wore matching shocked expressions.

"Please tell me this is just like Aziraphale," Raphael said desperately. "Please tell me you're not..."

Haniel looked down for a moment before facing his partner again. "I don't want to lie to you, Raph."

Tears streamed down the healer's face, but it was Gabriel's reaction that caught Haniel's attention the most, for in his violet eyes held sorrow as he wrapped a protective wing around Raphael, as though _he_ were the older sibling instead. _For all our arguments,_ Haniel thought, _he never expected me to Fall._ Maybe a part of him _did_ care for the lower spheres after all.

Raphael took a step forward; it was as much as Gabriel would allow. "H-how..."

Haniel knew what he meant to ask. "Last month," he said curtly.

"And we're only just knowing about this _now_?" Gabriel said angrily. "We would have helped you!"

" _Would_ you?" There was a challenge in Haniel's voice. "Because I seem to remember _quite well_ what happens to Fallen angels!"

"That's not fair, Haniel!"

"Please." Raphael's voice was barely a whisper. He looked so lost as his gaze swept between his partner and brother. "No more fighting." Then he paused and looked at Haniel again, this time with regained composure. "Show me your wings."

It wasn't a request.

Haniel gave a small, reluctant nod and at last let the illusion fall. His wings appeared almost in an instant, but he felt too afraid to actually look at them himself. How bad had they gotten after not only contemplating murder again, but actually being willing to go through with it this time?

Raphael put a hand over his mouth to stifle a sob and then turned his head away, while Gabriel looked on in disgust as he brought his brother closer to him.

 _Maybe I deserve this,_ Haniel thought. His Deal with Nithael had proven to be in vain. "Raph, I—"

He didn't get the chance to finish, because his partner soon pushed both him and Gabriel away before shooting up into the sky.

Haniel didn't even try going after him. He couldn't anyway, after Gabriel shackled his wrists together. Apparently rope bindings were too good for him.

"We are going to have a very, _very_ long talk," hissed the messenger into his ear.

Haniel's only response was a somber nod. Raphael's aura was nothing more but a speck now, so small that it might as well have been a beautiful star. _Happy anniversary, my love._


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update, because today has been an exciting (and relieving) day for my country! This one's a little different.
> 
> Btw, thanks again to the anon who corrected me about Vesuvius! This is coming from a history lover, but somehow it slipped my mind that the volcano erupted more than once, so the line has been fixed.

Perhaps she should've known better when she accepted the kindness of strangers, but things could always be worse, right? And at least Miss Goodwin and Mr. Fell were kind, if not a bit odd, what with the obvious lies and occasional near slip-ups, particularly in Goodwin's case. Meanwhile, Mr. Crowley... well, he seemed to be the paranoid sort as far as Jane could tell. But Mr. Fell loved him and clearly knew him best, so who was she—a homeless amnesiac—to judge?

But as a homeless amnesiac, as she suspected most homeless amnesiacs were prone to, curiosity had peaked her interest. Just what kind of people was she living with? And given his unusual yellow eyes, she was almost sure that Crowley was an otherworldly creature of some sort—extraterrestrial was at the top of her list—but she couldn't for the life of her figure out her hosts.

 _Spies? Or perhaps they're involved with organized crime._ Either sounded rather exciting, really. And potentially dangerous, but better this than the abbey, where she'd been bored out of her mind and hadn't been allowed to leave her room. At least here, she had more freedom, as well as decent food and shelter. And if she didn't ask too many questions, _perhaps_ she'd be all right.

Still, what kind of bookshop owner refused to sell books? Wouldn't Mr. Fell get in trouble with the law? _Definitely spies, then._ She scribbled her theory at the top of her notepad. _That so-called neurologist_ has _to be in on it too somehow!_ In hindsight, perhaps she should've kept her suspicions to herself, but her hosts clearly pitied her, so _hopefully_ that also meant they wouldn't harm her.

And then there was the little boy from earlier. Adam Young. It seemed only natural for her to feel immediate affection towards a child, but that didn't explain the strange pull she felt the moment she saw him. Had she known his parents? Or perhaps his presence had reminded her subconscious of someone from her own family, whoever they were.

Did they even know she was still alive?

 _Stiff upper lip, Janie!_ Now was not the time to be sad. The Reverend Mother would tell her to be grateful if she were here. That whatever she had done to deserve such a fate, the angel the abbey so passionately worshipped had shown mercy upon her. And though Jane didn't consider herself to be religious, surely there had to be a reason for why she'd been in a coma for so long and still managed to recover so quickly?

That was one thing she could agree with Mr. Crowley on, at least. Everything about the situation was indeed quite strange. _He didn't have to be such an arse about it, though!_

She didn't even notice Miss Goodwin coming upstairs until she spoke. "Right, well," began the older woman, clasping her hands while smiling. "Ezra will be spending the night at Crowley's again, so looks like it'll just be us girls tonight! Are you hungry, dear? Need anything?" It was like the day's earlier events had never even happened.

Jane stifled her annoyance, but it wasn't just the woman's avoidance that irritated her. _I'm capable of getting food myself!_ she wanted to snap, but soon thought against it; she'd been getting better at hiding her emotions these days. Once again, she was being treated like a child. But then, she might as well be one. _Eleven years of my life, gone_. She would've been just about twentysomething then. As far as she was concerned, it was a relief that Mr. Fell was as old-fashioned as he was.

"Jane?"

"Hm?" Jane shook her head when she remembered the question and managed a smile of her own."Oh, I'm fine, Miss Goodwin. Truly!"

Goodwin frowned. "Well, if you're sure." A pause, and then she said, "I'd like apologize for earlier, by the way. You're right, I haven't been truthful with you. But I have my reasons and I hope you understand that."

 _Well, that's_ _not_ _suspicious at all._ It didn't sound like a threat and Miss Goodwin had already proven that she couldn't lie to save her life, but for all she knew, it was _Mr. Fell_ who was the truly threatening one beneath all that softness of his. So, Jane simply nodded. "But of course, Miss Goodwin," she said at last. _Perhaps I really should start looking into homeless shelters soon._ Preferably one that wouldn't dismiss her after only a month without reason.

The older woman seemed pleased before flicking her gaze over towards the notepad. "Doing a bit of writing, I see."

Jane grunted softly, clutching the notepad close to her chest. "Just writing down my thoughts."

Miss Goodwin nodded, an unreadable expression on her face, but Jane guessed it was meant to be one of concern. "Yes, well it's good you're seeking an outlet to sort out your feelings. I can only imagine how scary this must all be for you."

 _It'd certainly be less so if I knew what the bloody Hell was going on!_ "Please don't worry for me, Miss Goodwin!" Jane insisted. "You and Mr. Fell have done more than enough by taking me in."

"Hm, still." She was silent again and then stepped closer to sit beside Jane on the bed. "If you don't mind my asking, what exactly was your time in the abbey like? I know you said the nuns were kind, but..."

Jane couldn't stop herself from flinching, though she couldn't quite understand why. _What's wrong with me today?_

"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry!" the other woman apologized again, apparently having noticed her hesitance. "Just... my brother would sometimes encourage talking to do away with negativity. I figured maybe doing so would make you feel better, considering... well, _everything_."

Jane slowly relaxed and even let out a soft chuckle. _She's just trying to look out for me._ And perhaps her new, strange friend had a point. Perhaps talking _would_ help her feel better, and would probably give her hosts some clues as well. And yet... "I appreciate your concern, Miss Goodwin," she said, "but you are asking me to trust you with what is essentially private information after you just admitted to lying to me. So do forgive my reluctance, ma'am." Really, the nerve of some people!

Goodwin smiled tightly, and Jane guessed she was being silently insulted right now. "I meant no offense, Jane," she said at last. "But I do understand where you're coming from." She then drummed her fingers on her lap and there was a spark in her eyes a few seconds later. "Why don't we do this? You get to ask a question about my life if I get to ask you something about your time at the abbey. A bit of a game, really. Fair?"

"Hm." _She's not going to leave me alone until she gets something out of me, is she?_ But she _did_ love games—or at least she _believed_ she did. _Maybe telling her wouldn't be such a bad idea after all._ Anything to help jog her memory, really. And besides, what did she _really_ have left to lose anyway? Realizing this, Jane nodded. "Very well!" she said enthusiastically. "On one condition. Do you promise to be honest?"

"As honest as I'm able to."

 _I suppose t_ _hat'll have to do for now._ "Okay then, I'll start," she said and looked at her notepad again. "So, this doesn't have much to do with you specifically, but is Mr. Crowley an alien?"

Goodwin immediately laughed. "An _alien_? _That's_ the conclusion you're coming to?"

"I don't believe that serpentitis excuse for a second!" She'd been in a coma for more than a decade, but she wasn't stupid! Although, she supposed the accusation _was_ rather amusing the more she thought about it.

"Because alien makes much more sense?" Soon, the laughter died down. "But alright, fair enough. Yes, it would appear you've discovered Mr. Crowley's secret."

 _I knew it!_ Jane could barely contain her excitement.

For once, there was a look of sadness on Miss Goodwin's face when she spoke of the person—alien—who might as well be her nemesis. "Poor thing's the last of his kind, you see, and his home planet is long gone. Now he's been traveling through space and time to cope with his issues and often takes Ezra with him on his adventures. Why, I bet the two of them are on one right now as we speak."

A wave of sympathy washed over Jane. _Oh, poor Mr. Crowley!_ No wonder he was such a crank. And going through space and time probably explained why Mr. Fell seemed so reluctant to sell a single book. She soon found herself wishing she could do _something_ for him, perhaps show him that Earth could be his new home and that he didn't have to run away from his problems all the time and _wait just a tick!_

Time traveling alien? And Mr. Fell going on adventures at _his_ age? The more she thought about it, the more ridiculous it sounded.

"You're pulling my leg right now, aren't you?"

Miss Goodwin barely stifled a laugh as her eyes shined with amusement. "Maybe just a bit," she said.

"Michelle!" _I guess she's a better actress than I gave her credit for._

"Really, Jane, what exactly are you expecting here?" She sounded almost irritated. "Anthony was born in Scotland, raised here in England, worked for my brother for awhile, and then met and fell in love with Ezra. Not anything special, really."

"And his eyes?"

She shrugged. "Hell if I know! But he's always been quite sensitive about it, so try not to bring it up the next time he comes here, okay? Besides, Elizabeth Taylor had naturally violet eyes, so I don't see why it's so strange for someone to be born with yellow ones."

 _I'm pretty sure Elizabeth Taylor's didn't have_ slits _!_ And Jane wasn't a doctor, but she didn't think it was jaundice, either. _I'm not actually going to get any answers tonight, am I?_ "Yes, I... I suppose I _was_ reaching just a bit."

Miss Goodwin nodded. "Quite alright, dear. I understand what an active imagination you may have."

 _Active imagination! Huh!_ But fine. Hopefully there'd be time for real answers later.

Smiling, the other woman said, "Now, I believe it's _my_ turn. What was it like during your time at the abbey?"

Jane tried not to scowl. She _could_ come up with a lie of her own, but looking for clues on her past was simply far too important. _And the sooner I find out who I am, the better._ "Well, you already know the basics: August was nearly over when I woke up, and one of the nuns—Sister Aurora—said that my name was Jane Smith and that I've been in a coma for eleven years.

"Naturally, I was shocked, and even more so with how quick of a recovery I made. Despite this, they kept me in a small room for about a month, while Sister Estelle and Sister Lucinda told me of all that I've missed while I was unconscious." How far cellular devices had come was perhaps the most surprising, along with the Queen still being alive.

Goodwin's brow furrowed. "Hm. Did _all_ of the nuns have names relating to light?"

Jane nodded. "Well, most of them. I think it was to show their love for the angel of light or something." Why did that seem so strange?

"Uriel?"

"Is that his name? They never really told me what it was." But then, they never told her anything relating to the order anyway.

Goodwin grinned. "Well, now we're getting somewhere! Why don't we look more into it tomorrow? And I probably should've asked this sooner, but I don't suppose you remember where exactly the abbey was located?"

"Um..." Jane closed her eyes and tried to concentrate, tried to remember anything outstanding about it, but her mind drew a blank. She couldn't even remember what the building _looked_ like. _Strange._ "I'm sorry, but no. The nuns were very secretive, though I'm sure you knew that already. All I know is that it's somewhere here in England."

"That's alright," came the gentle reply. "At least now we know their patron. That'll help us narrow it down significantly. Oh! In fact, why don't we pray before going to sleep? If only to calm the nerves."

"Prayer?"

"Oh... are you an atheist?" The disappointment couldn't have been more obvious.

"Let's just say my time at the abbey has made me question a few things." If there indeed was a God, He most certainly wasn't on _her_ side. "But perhaps some other time?"

The older woman sighed and kissed her forehead. "As you wish, dear. But if you don't have any more questions, I'll see you tomorrow." She got up and made her way towards the staircase before Jane could reply.

Much as she wanted to, Jane didn't try to stop her. And with a thousand questions swirling around her head, she already knew she wasn't going to get much sleep tonight.


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so because I'm finally starting to get more specific with the dates, I actually had to go back and revise a bit so the timeline would make a bit more sense to more or less how I envisioned it in my head.
> 
> For reference: Chaps: 1-12 (Sep 1)  
> Chaps: 13-21 (Sep 4)  
> Chaps: 22-26 (Sep 5)  
> Chaps: 27-28 (Oct. 1)  
> Chaps: 29-35 (Oct. 4)  
> Chaps: 36-46 (Oct. 7)
> 
> And then of course there's this one, which takes place the next day, so October 8th. The story also takes place in 2018, a reference to the script book.

One could only make so many excuses to get out of meetings before running out of ideas and actually being forced to go to them. This was what Raziel had learned yesterday, when the Metatron proposed that the leaders of the nine spheres speak to Aziraphale.

 _"He's not gonna help Haniel recant, if that's what you were hopin' for,"_ he'd tried to warn those in the first sphere. But as seemed to be within their nature, they ignored their lesser; even the Metatron looked down on him now. Because that somehow made sense. It wasn't like Raziel had been living with the principality while trying to help Michael for nearly an entire month or anything.

"Perhaps we should try again?" suggested the head Virtue Tarshish. They were all sitting in the old courtroom again, which was really less of a courtroom and more like a spare throne room Michael had used whenever she'd wanted to punish angels in the most dramatic way possible while simultaneously using them to keep the other leaders in line.

So it was perfect for the first sphere, with the Metatron sitting at the head of a table that had been miracled in only recently.

 _Guess_ _we could at least make this_ _into_ _an official conference hall or somethin',_ Raziel thought. He hadn't forgotten Cerviel's desire for a true angelic council.

Ophaniel scoffed. "If summoning that traitor didn't work in our favor once, what makes you think he'll come around a second time?"

"Third, actually," Cerviel chimed in. "He doesn't want anything to do with any of us at all, not even his fellow principalities."

_Gee, I wonder why..._

"But at least we know he isn't one to pick sides."

"Except Earth's," said the head Angel Phaleg in a dry tone, and this got a brief chuckle out of everyone. "And that demon's. God knows why they love each other."

Cerviel stiffened at the mention of Crowley and glanced at Raziel for a quick second. "I really don't think it should be our place to judge who our angels love," they said. "Especially if they don't even work for us anymore."

 _Hypocrite!_ He still hadn't told Cerviel about Crowley somehow disguising himself as Aziraphale, and likely never would. Some secrets simply weren't worth spilling. And besides, as far as he was concerned, what the demon had done had been sweet. _They ain't even hurtin' anyone, and Aziraphale would've angered the others either way._

"Right, well, if we're all done gossiping," the Metatron snapped, "let's discuss our next steps. Third sphere, how goes your... er..."

"Insubordinates?" Phaleg suggested bitterly. "And we have names, you know!"

"Yes... of course."

"He _does_ remember our names, doesn't he?" Cerviel whispered.

"He _better_ ," Raziel replied, only slightly hurt. _I've known him since he was human, for God's sake!_

Cerviel then cleared their throat and turned to the seraph. "The others have only just begun to resume their duties," they said. "Raguel was busy giving some of them their tasks when I saw her last."

Jophiel sighed, clearly relieved, as though she hadn't contributed to the unrest herself. "Finally, some _good_ news!"

The Metatron nodded in agreement. "Yes, quite. Thank you, Cerviel. What about you, second sphere? Any news at all?"

Tarshish spoke on her rank's behalf. "Everyone seems to be readjusting just fine," she said, though her anxiousness wasn't lost on Raziel in the slightest; it was the way she was playing with a strand of her hair that gave it away. "Oh! And I saw Raphael come home last night, too."

"Why didn't you just lead with _that_?" Ophaniel asked. "Do you know if Gabriel and the other one have returned as well?"

"His name is _Haniel_!" Cerviel snapped.

 _Does the first sphere have a death wish?_ Raziel thought as he placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. Cerviel wasn't exactly the most intimidating angel in Heaven, but now just didn't seem like the best time to upset the third sphere in general.

The cherub however was completely unfazed by the principality's reaction. "I know what he's called, little prince," she said curtly with a bit of smugness. "Now, you were saying, Tarshish?"

The Virtue glanced at Cerviel before responding. "Um... yes, well, Raphael said that they were both still on Earth." Then she frowned. "But he seemed so sad when he said it. Nervous too, actually."

Most of the leaders looked at each other in confusion, and two theories soon swam through Raziel's head, one of which was most likely while the other was just laughable.

The Metatron sighed. "Well, whatever has Raphael so upset, I'm sure he can deal with it on his own. And now that we have Heavenly reports out of the way—"

"What about _your_ sphere?" asked Phaleg as they drummed their fingers on the table.

"What?"

"I don't think my question merits repeating."

"What are you trying to imply?" Jophiel asked. Her voice was calm and she sounded genuinely curious, but her shoulders were raised and her brow was furrowed, as though she were trying to guess what the Angel knew about whatever was going on with her rank.

Phaleg shrugged and leaned back against their throne. "Oh, nothing. Simply that it seems odd for the Metatron to skip his own sphere. That's all."

 _Little liar._ Raziel couldn't help but be amused, especially since Phaleg wasn't even trying to hide their smirk. _Hmph! Looks like our inglorious bastards are hidin' somethin'._ Or maybe they were just hiding something from _him_. Had things gotten worse for them? Regardless, this was officially the most excitement he'd felt since the trial.

And he'd investigate of course, one way or another. He knew more than anyone that all secrets came out eventually, and _someone_ needed to be on the scene when that happened to the first sphere. Why _shouldn't_ it be him? No powers, because that would just be far too easy—he'd just follow his own intuition, boast to the Metatron and the rest of Michael's followers whenever he discovered the truth and maybe make them squirm a little, and then...

And then what?

 _The_ Observer _ain't even around anymore, you idiot!_ With so little progress being made, that retirement plan was starting to look more and more enticing.

"If you _must_ know," the Metatron began, "the first sphere is doing splendidly! Thank you _so much_ for your concern, Phaleg."

Phaleg huffed a laugh and looked just about ready to say something cheeky, when the doors began to open and in came Noriel, her bright red hair literally on fire as she glared at the leaders.

"Why aren't any of ya answering your damn phones?" she demanded.

"Nice to see you, too, Nora," the Metatron deadpanned.

"It's _Noriel_ , you sanctimonious sod!"

"Is that not what I said?"

Camael glared at the seraph. "How about we _don't_ try to anger the fire angel any more than we already have?" Turning to the archangel, he asked, "Er, you were saying, Noriel? Our phones have been silent since before the meeting began, so..."

Noriel gave a low growl, but then her fire extinguished itself after she took a deep breath. "There seems to be trouble down on Earth."

"Already?" Zadkiel asked, though she didn't seem all that shocked. Actually, it was quite the opposite. "Alright, pay up, everyone!"

Every leader except for the Metatron, Cerviel, and Raziel let out collective groans as they each miracled small pouches that all levitated towards the head dominion.

"Y-you all _gambled_ on how long it would take for Earth to return to normal?" asked the horrified seraph, his face scrunched up in a way that was almost comical as his eye twitched. "I hope you know this is something _Hell_ would do!"

Zadkiel shrugged. "Yes, well, when your home becomes nothing more but a disorganized mess, things tend to get just a bit... _boring_. Don't judge us for simply trying to make things a bit more lively around here."

"Questionable actions _aside_ ," Noriel hissed, her voice slightly raised, "it would seem as though several humans in Oceania have succumbed to the demon of Wrath."

The fire angel's words were met with complete silence as all nine leaders stared at her. Raziel clenched a fist in an attempt to stop himself from shaking, while Cerviel and Phaleg both huddled closer to him. And he didn't need to read anyone's mind to know they were all thinking the same as him, that hopefully Noriel was either playing a cruel joke or she had somehow been mistaken. After all, the last demon of Wrath was killed over two thousand years ago, so why would Hell find a replacement _now_?

But the stone-faced look she gave told them all that it was neither of these things.

And wrath had always existed for the humans, ever since Cain clubbed his brother Abel to death. But as with most things that concerned the supernatural, things always seemed to somehow get more annoyingly complicated whenever demons were involved.

"Are you _sure_ , Noriel?" Jophiel asked at last.

Noriel nodded and almost immediately afterwards did some files appear in her hands. "And in case you still don't believe me, I have photographic evidence. You know, from _Observation_!"

Raziel tried to sink further into his fancy chair once all eyes were on him again. _God... Ma... if you're listenin', please smite me right now._ "Hey, in my defense," he began while fixing his posture, "I was on Earth for a few weeks, 'member? And besides, I thought it should've gone without sayin' that nothin' would change in my absence, _Phaleg_!"

Phaleg rolled their eyes. "Oh sure, blame the lesser Angel! How original!"

"If you two are _quite done_ behaving like squabs," said the irritated Metatron as Noriel passed the files around.

Raziel quickly stamped out the feeling of embarrassment when Noriel reached him. "Thanks," he whispered to her and hoped whatever was in the folder wasn't as bad as his co-worker had made it out to be. _Just a burnt down house, right?_ Which would still be bad, but also nowhere near as horrid as any of the other things a demon of Wrath would be capable of. _All it takes is one bad day..._

Slowly, carefully, he opened the file with bated breath. And what he saw immediately horrified him: humans pummeling each other, committing arson, kidnappings, murders... All for ultimately petty reasons, according to the written reports included in the folder.

_Date: 4 September, 2018 of the Common Era_   
_Location: Melbourne, Australia_   
_Details: 30 year old Maria Jenkins kidnaps her seven year old daughter after husband Peter Jenkins threatens divorce on behalf of her infidelity; child was unharmed and is now in the custody of her father_

_Date:_ _10 September, 2018 of the Common Era_  
 _Location: Auckland, New Zealand_  
 _Details: 16 year olds Thomas Kingston and Willow Marley attempt to kill their respective parents after they were forbidden from seeing each other; the couple have since been apprehended_

Raziel tore his gaze away from this particular report. _Sixteen._ Practically _babies_! _I think I'm going to be sick!_ Not that young murderers or parental kidnappers were anything new, but cases such as these never got any easier to stomach. And wasn't it still swooping season in Australia? _Christ, these poor humans._ Still, he kept skimming, and it didn't take long for him to notice a pattern: assault, kidnapping, arson, murder. Well, no one ever said Hell was creative. Soon, there was something else Raziel noticed as well—the more he went through the images, the more they seemed to focus on two overtly gleeful figures standing a little aways from the chaos.

_Demons!_

Raziel felt his blood boil, but he gritted his teeth to try and contain his anger. There'd be time to take it out on the infernal creatures later. And though the scruffy-haired one wasn't familiar to him, the slender one with the fangs would've been instantly recognizable to any angel. For she was Asmodeus. Beautiful, cruel, _possibly_ vampiric Asmodeus.

Cerviel was shaking like a leaf beside him until the archangel wrapped an arm around them as the copies were sent back into Noriel's arms.

"Thanks," they murmured as they rested their head on their friend's shoulder.

"This doesn't mean a demon was involved!" Phaleg said. They almost sounded desperate. "We all know how... reckless the humans can be."

The Metatron nodded in agreement, though his eyes had darkened. "Unfortunately so, but Phaleg may have a point. Asmodeus and... what's the other one? Hastur, I think? Their presence could just be a coincidence."

"In _every_ picture?" Ophaniel challenged. "If you believe that, then you're an even bigger idiot than I thought! Furthermore," she added while poking the Metatron's chest, "is it not supposed to be _your_ job to pass on assignments?"

The seraph muttered something under his breath and then said, "Does it _really_ matter who's to blame for the lack of angels on Earth?" he asked.

"Yes! Yes, it does!"

"Regardless," he continued, as though the cherub hadn't spoken at all, "one of you go and inform Raphael of this. He knows how to deal with Asmodeus better than any of us."

Tarshish was the first to stand. "I'll go!" she said and practically scurried out of the room.

Ophaniel seemed ready to follow, pushing out her own throne."Right, well, I think that's enough for today. Thank you for informing us of this urgent news, Noriel."

The fire angel nodded while the Metatron glared at them. "I don't recall adjourning this meeting!" he snapped.

Ophaniel ignored him and followed Noriel out, and the other leaders trailed not far behind. There really was no use in continuing anymore.

"I hope all those countries will be alright," Cerviel said worriedly once it was just them, Raziel, and Phaleg. Wrapping their arms around themselves, they asked, "Oh, you don't think this is _our_ fault, do you?"

Raziel gently ran his fingers through Cerviel's hair until he saw the principality relax. "No way!" he said, doing his best to at least _sound_ confident. "You know how Hell is. They would've done somethin' like this sooner or later."

Phaleg nodded and hugged Cerviel from behind. "Raziel's right. And besides, if anyone's to blame, it's Aziraphale."

Cerviel turned their head to glare at them, but then laughed before giving the Angel a playful shove. "Just go and tend to your rank, Phaleg. You can mock our cause later."

Amused, the Angel gave a little salute and left.

Raziel chuckled and resumed walked. "Well, I better get back to work too, I think. You comin', Cerviel?"

No reply.

"Vi?" He turned his head to see the principality hugging themself again. "You okay?"

"Hm?" Cerviel looked up, guilt still etched on their face. "Oh! Y-yeah, sorry. Just... thinking."

"About Aziraphale?" Raziel guessed as he walked back to them.

"Well, sort of." They paused for a few seconds and then said, "I don't think I ever apologized for yesterday. Just... I thought he was acting weird, and _you_ were acting weird, and... and I completely understand if you don't want to be my friend anymore."

Raziel stared at the principality for several seconds as a smiled slowly spread across his face before letting out a laugh. "You're adorable, you know that?" Hugging Cerviel, he added, "Don't be silly. We've known each other for a long time and I love you too much to end things." _Although not ordering me around would still be_ great _!_

Cerviel started to blush while their eyes shined. "Really?" they asked, grinning.

"Well, yeah! You're my best friend!" _And maybe even my only friend._

To his surprise, their face started to fall. "Oh. Right. Th-that's what you meant."

Raziel raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "What d'ya think I meant?"

Cerviel sighed. "Never mind. It's not important anyway."

"But—"

"Now let's go check up on Earth before the first sphere has our wings!"

"Uh... 'kay." What just happened? _Oh, whatever!_ Raziel shook his head as he followed behind Cerviel. _I'll just ask later._ Right now, he needed to make sure God's beloved planet was safe, starting with looking more into this Hastur. Well, and Jane or whoever the human was, but she could wait. _Sorry, Mike. Gotta save the world first._

Raziel took out his phone to get started, only to frown when he saw a message from Haniel. _That's weird._ "Hey, Cerviel?" he called after his friend. "I think your brother sent me a message by mistake."

Though they stopped walking, Cerviel didn't answer, and their back was still turned.

"Cerviel?" _What now?_

Their only reply was a sob.

Raziel felt a pang of concern almost immediately. Cerviel wasn't usually _this_ emotional. "Hey," he said gently as he approached them. "What's wrong?"

Cerviel shook their head and took a deep breath before finally turning to face Raziel. "I... got Haniel's message, too. I think he meant to send it to the other revolutionaries."

"Oh?" In truth, Raziel had been trying to forget all about the part he'd played, what with all the trouble it'd caused. "And? What's it say?"

"Raz... he recanted."


	48. Chapter 48

There was something about fighting demons that seemed to fill an angel with so much satisfaction, be it due to loyalty to God or love for Earth itself. But for Raphael, it was all about the thrill of the chase. The irony wasn't lost on him either, a healer being excited over bringing harm to another, even if it _was_ the enemy.

No wonder Haniel hadn't trusted him enough to reveal his little secret.

 _I would have helped him!_ Or at least Raphael _hoped_ he would've. They'd been together for more than a thousand years, after all. Surely that had to have meant _something_?

_Not to Haniel, apparently._

"Raphael?" Tarshish was already a few steps ahead when she snapped him out of his thoughts. "Are you alright?"

Raphael shook off his worries and smiled. Any concerns he had regarding his partner could wait. "Just fine, Tarshish," he said as he approached her. "Simply thinking about what I'll do to Asmodeus once we find her." Or at least _now_ he was. Running her through with a sword would be the most predictable option, but it at least got the job done. _Maybe I can at least pin her to a tree with my halo first?_ He couldn't even remember the last time he used the bright floating disc as a weapon, which was why it was perfect. _She'll never expect it!_

Tarshish almost looked uncomfortable, but she nodded sternly. "Of course, sir! But what about the ceasefire?"

"What _about_ the ceasefire?" True that it was supposed to prevent angels and demons from getting too violent with each other, but at the end of the day, it was still just a piece of paper that could only delay what was only natural for their two sides for so long—the last one had only lasted for about a century before someone broke it. Gabriel and Nithael breaking it after only a month was a new record.

"We're not doing anything wrong, Tarshish," Raphael went on comfortingly. "We're simply doing our duties as angels here. And so long as no one gets killed, everything will be fine." Without waiting for the Virtue to reply, he flew up to scan the area and tasted the arid air of the Australian Outback, but was quickly disappointed when there didn't seem to be even a trace of any infernal creatures nearby. "Are you _sure_ Noriel said this was where they were last seen?"

Tarshish nodded and then joined him. "Positive. Though, I suppose they could've already left, or at least disguised their scents."

_Which means more work for us. Great..._

"Should we split up?"

Raphael shook his head. He was familiar enough with human horror films to know the outcome of _that_ , and Tarshish simply wasn't as experienced in demon hunting as he was anyway. "Just stay close to me," he said as he turned away from the Virtue. "I'm sure they're around here _somewhere_."

"Perhaps even right behind you?"

"Well, yes, perhaps even th—" _Oh, no._ It took him only a few seconds to realize it wasn't even Tarshish who'd spoken. For one, the Virtue didn't have a Spanish accent.

Asmodeus was smirking when Raphael finally turned around, a bow in one hand while a quiver of arrows rested on her back. Her hair was tied in a neat bun, and she wore a black archery uniform that looked straight out of the medieval period, so unlike her usual risqué attire. "You seem to be finally feeling your age, old friend, if you couldn't even sense me."

"Never mind the fact that you're not much younger that I," Raphael retorted.

"Which means I'm still younger!"

This was how their encounters usually began, with a bit of banter and insults. Over time, it'd become something of a game for them, to see who could go the longest without attacking the other. And though a battle of words was preferable, they both knew a fight had to break out eventually. It'd been like this even back when they'd been angels together, both competing for the spot of head Virtue back in the day.

"Enough of this!" Tarshish growled, already drawing her sword. "Where's Hastur?"

Asmodeus seemed to be struggling not to laugh as she turned to the Virtue. "Aw, you brought me a new friend to play with, I see," she said to Raphael, showing off her small fangs when she smiled. "Which one are you supposed to be, _preciosa_?"

Tarshish recoiled before Asmodeus could touch her.

"Leave her alone, Asmodeus!" Raphael snapped as he stepped between the two beings. Tarshish briefly touched his arm in gratitude as he used his wings to shield the Virtue from the demon. "Just tell us with Hastur is."

The demon rolled her eyes. "Angels! Just as boring as I recall." Sighing, she added, "Oh, very well. I sent him back to Hell so he could give his report on his latest bad deeds while I stayed behind to have some fun of my own. Why?"

"I'm sure you've noticed what's been happening in Australia and New Zealand and the rest of Oceania lately."

Asmodeus grinned. "Oh, you've noticed our work! Wonderful! I was beginning to wonder if Heaven would ever interfere."

Raphael felt his wings twitch. So much suffering could've easily been avoided if someone had been at Observation, if angels had been stationed in every part of the world before he'd left to find the sister he had yet to actually visit. And it was probably his own fault, really, as he was technically in charge of Heaven now. _Some good I'm doing!_ Yet part of him couldn't help but blame Haniel as well, for planting the idea of some silly revolution into their co-workers' heads. Everything had been mostly fine until now, why did his partner have to ruin it?

And Gabriel.

And Aziraphale.

And—

"Feeling unwell, Raphael?" Asmodeus' voice was mocking.

Raphael shook his head. "Nonsense! Though I appreciate the concern."

"Hmph!"

"Anyway," he continued, "at least tell us why Hell has suddenly become interested in finding a new demon of Wrath? At least, I assume that's what this is."

"And didn't Gabriel kill the last one over two thousand years ago?" Tarshish added.

Accidentally _killed the last one,_ Raphael added silently. Satan had been livid when he'd learned of Amon's death, and the war would've likely occurred much sooner had the Metatron not stepped in to mediate the situation. No matter what anyone else thought, the former human certainly had his uses.

Asmodeus' eyes flashed in annoyance. "What we decide to do and when is none of your concern!" she snapped. "I grow tired of this. Now, if you're both done questioning me—"

"We're not." Tarshish was already behind Asmodeus before she could finish and was pointing her sword at the lust demon's back. "You're going to come with us for further inquiry. Failure to comply peacefully will result in severe consequences, so I suggest cooperating."

"And even _you're_ not skilled enough to take on both of us," Raphael added, his own sword in hand. He couldn't even remember the last time she'd won a fight against him, if ever.

Asmodeus stared at him for a moment, and then laughed. "My, my, someone's gotten cocky since we last saw each other. When was that, by the way? 1700s?"

Raphael didn't care enough to clarify. _She's stalling,_ he realized. _But why?_ And then he noticed that she wasn't looking at him at all, but _past_ him. _What?_ Slowly, he turned his head and flinched, for he was now face-to-face with Duke Hastur, who was pointing an arrow right in his direction as his black eyes glittered with hatred. Even worse, he'd brought back-up.

 _Eric._ Legion's son was relatively harmless, but this was also the same demon who could create multiple copies of himself. _I'll need to take him out first._

"Let 'er go and we _might_ let you leave peacefully," said Hastur.

"So I suggest cooperating," Asmodeus added with a smirk.

Might. Which meant the angels would likely have to fight the demons either way.

"You said he was back in Hell!" Tarshish hissed.

"I did," Asmodeus said smugly. "I never said he wouldn't be back! Or have you angels not learned about phrasing yet? Good work, by the way, Hastur. You too, Eric."

Hastur simply acknowledged his superior's words with a curt nod while Eric beamed at the praise before multiplying into five copies of himself.

Raphael briefly glanced back at Tarshish, who was still holding her sword and didn't seem like she'd be wavering any time soon. So she was either brave or foolish. _I can take care of all of them just fine,_ he thought. _But Tarshish..._ "Lower your weapon, Tarshish," he said to the Virtue at last.

Tarshish's eyes widened. "But sir—"

"No buts. Just do as I say."

The Virtue glanced at her superior and then to the demons and then back to Raphael again. "Of course, Raphael," she said, reluctantly placing her sword back in its sheath before taking a step back from a far too pleased Asmodeus.

"That wasn't so hard, was it, little pearl?" said the lust demon when Tarshish drew back. "Now, if you don't mind us, I need to accompany Hastur to Japan next."

 _Not if I have something to say about it!_ He narrowed his eyes as he watched the demons leave. This had been far too quick and easy, and Asmodeus wasn't usually one to just leave him be without a fight first, so there had to be some sort of catch. _And if she won't attack,_ Raphael thought, _then Hastur will. Or Eric. Or one of the... clones..._ Eyes wide, the Archangel quickly glanced at Eric and his copies. _One, two..._ Where was the fifth?

"Ah!"

 _Tarshish!_ Raphael whirled around, more than ready to defend his fellow angel, but she was already on the ground with a dagger to her back and another on her side as gold liquid began to pool from her.

_Blood!_

Raphael immediately rushed to kneel beside her, and she jerked when he took the weapons out. "It's okay," he said gently as he began to place his glowing hands on her wounds. "You're going to be okay." He glared at Asmodeus for confirmation.

"She will be, with _you_ around," Asmodeus replied bitterly. "Although, I must say, I'm _quite_ disappointed. First you weren't able to sense me, and now _Eric_ of all demons was able to sneak up of your little friend here in such a predictable attack." Glancing at the rabbit-like cambion, she said, "Er, no offense, darling. Just stating the facts."

"It's almost like you angels have gone soft," Hastur added with a grin.

 _"You've gone soft."_ Nithael's words rang in Raphael's ears as his eye twitched. He should've killed her then. _I should_ _kill_ _them all_ now _!_ It would be easy, too. _Subdue them, throw holy water at them, watch them as they_ _all scream_ _for mercy..._ But he didn't want to incite Satan's wrath, either.

Tarshish slowly lifted her head just as her injuries were beginning to close up. "Oh, fuck off!" she rasped. "Don't think you're just going to get away with this!"

Asmodeus snorted. "Oh, look. The injured angel is threatening us. My wings are simply trembling."

Hastur laughed while Eric attempted to stifle one, and it took all of Raphael's will to not attack them all at once. _Save your strength for the real battle,_ he told himself. Besides, he needed to get Tarshish back to Heaven first.

"Well, this has been fun," Asmodeus continued, "but we really _must_ be going now. _Adios_ , _pendejos_!" Then a ring of fire surrounded them, and they disappeared by the time the flames died down.

* * *

It was only after he'd taken Tarshish to the infirmary for further healing did he hear about Haniel's recantation, and Raphael felt neither relief or grief about it. What he _did_ feel however was curiosity. The principality had been so desperate for change, so why take everything back, instead of simply finding some new way to achieve his goal?

So, Raphael decided to simply talk to Haniel himself. Hopefully, he'd still be in his office, and besides, he still needed to know exactly _why_ his partner was Falling in the first place. _Maybe I should apologize, too._ He'd left him alone with Gabriel, after all, and there was no doubt his brother had questioned Haniel extensively about his condition. _After he apologizes to_ me _, of course._ It was only fair and seemed like a good start as any to prevent any more black feathers.

But when he reared the corner while nearing Haniel's door, Raphael stopped in his tracks, surprised to see several angels were already there. _I suppose they have questions as well. Makes sense._ As he got closer to the crowd, he was able to recognize angels from all different ranks. Raziel was among them, dressed in his old reporter's garb to the point of having a floating typewriter with him.

"Raziel," Raphael began, "why do you have typewriter with you?"

The archangel scoffed, his eyes still focused on the door while rapidly pressing on the keys. "Why don't _you_?"

"We're trying to find out why Haniel recanted," said Raguel in irritation.

"Okay, but that still doesn't explain the typewriter." Wouldn't it be easier to just use a tablet, or some other technological writing device?

She shrugged and then asked, "I don't suppose _you_ know anything about this?"

Raphael shook his head. "I only found out just now. Or do you all expect me to be my partner's keeper or something?"

His words must've come off as harsher than intended, as Raguel and the other angels took the time to stare at him with uncomfortable gazes, while some even began to back away while doing so.

"Is Raphael there?" came Haniel's voice from behind the closed door.

Relief washed over the healer as he approached it before placing his hand on the white barrier. "Yes, darling! I'm here." _And I'll never leave you again._ They would get through this together.

"Oh, good!" Haniel paused for a few seconds. "Listen," he continued, "would you be a dear and tell these _idiots_ to _leave me alone_!? I've already recanted!"

"Doesn't count if it wasn't in public!" Raziel pointed out loudly.

"I said it in front of Gabriel before issuing a written statement!"

"That doesn't count either!" The archangel was clearly having too much fun with this.

Raphael heard Haniel groan and backed away slightly when the principality finally opened the door to step out and glare at the other angels in annoyance while crossing his arms.

"You want a proper recantation?" he growled. "Fine!"

"Well, actually—"

Cerviel was quickly cut off by their older brother. "Raziel, take note. Raphael, you can be the overseer of this whole thing." Hands to his back, he then began to pace around before continuing. "I, the Principality Haniel, angel of the city of Naples of the European country of Italy, hereby on this day, the 8th of October in the year of our Lord 2018 of the Common Era, formerly recant any and all statements made against the glorious first sphere."

Raphael noticed some angels gagging, and even _he_ couldn't help but cringe at this.

"I've especially come to regret all the trouble my actions have caused over the past few months, including—but not limited to—the Archangel Michael being turned human by the demon Nithael, as well as nearly causing a Celestial war among our ranks." He paused again as angels began to shuffle away from each other. "As far as requests are concerned, the Archangels Uriel and Sandalphon are to return home with a full pardon."

 _Something good will come from this at least!_ The angels beside Raphael didn't seem to agree.

"And finally, to my siblings in the third sphere, do not continue any more of this revolution nonsense on my behalf. This is nonnegotiable. Obedience to the Most High still is and should always be our top priority."

 _Never mind that the Most High abandoned us!_ Raphael held his tongue. He didn't want to cause a panic.

"May the glory of God be upon you all. Signed, Yours Truly." Haniel took the paper from Raziel's typewriter once the lesser angel had finished typing and quickly scribbled his sigil on the bottom. "There!" he said, presenting them all with the written statement. "How's _this_ for official? Now go, all of you! It's over! Done! _Finito_!"

There were murmurs amongst the angels and some even looked ready to protest, but eventually, the crowd began to disperse while Raziel hesitantly took the paper from him.

"Oh, and Raziel?" Haniel said before the archangel could leave.

"Y-yeah?"

"Make sure to tell Aziraphale to send his sword back to us the next time you go to Earth. It's not like he'll be needing it anymore."

Raziel nodded. "Uh, sure. Anythin' else?"

"Yes. I also expect you to become Michael's guardian full-time."

"What?" The archangel's eyes widened. "But—"

Haniel held up a hand. "No buts. I'll have the Metatron send you the official paperwork later today."

Raziel gritted his teeth and looked like he actually wanted to fight Haniel in that moment, but then his shoulders slumped. "Of course, my prince," he said sarcastically before leaving.

Raguel cautiously stepped forward, a look of anger and sadness on her face. "I don't know who you are," she said, her voice cracking, "but I know for a fact that my brother would never say such things!" She whirled around and grabbed Cerviel's hand before the oldest of the principalities could reply.

Haniel sighed. "They'll come around eventually," he said, and then his face softened when he turned to Raphael. "How are you, my dear?"

"Erm... fine." Raphael glanced at the leaving angels. "So... what exactly was all that about just now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just... I've never known you to give up on anything before."

Haniel shrugged. "Well, there's a first time for everything." He then shuffled his foot while glancing at the ground. "You left me alone with Gabriel, by the way. On our _anniversary_."

Raphael winced at Haniel's bitterness and wrapped his arms around his partner. "I know. I'm sorry." _So much for apologizing_ after _him._ In reality, he'd been so upset by Haniel's revelation that he hadn't even noticed that no one had joined him until Tarshish brought it up. _I should've gone back!_ "Did... did he say something to you?" Had this all been Gabriel's idea in exchange for his silence? Not that he _wanted_ to believe that his brother could be so cruel, but after everything that had transpired, he wouldn't put it past him, either.

Haniel hummed and leaned his head against Raphael's chest. "Does it matter?" he asked. "I caused so much trouble already. It just seemed fair that I at least stopped this before things escalated any further."

Perhaps Raphael would've been proud if it weren't for one thing: why _now_? _He didn't give up when he nearly caused a_ civil war _, but he does after I find out he's Falling?_ Something about it just didn't make any sense. _I'll_ definitely _have to speak to Gabriel about this later._

"Anyway, why do you care?"

Raphael stepped back. "I'm sorry?"

Haniel's eyes grew cold. "You never cared about the lower spheres before, not even during all of... _this_!" He waved his arms around, as though to indicate to all that had befallen Heaven since the averted Apocalypse.

"That's not true!" Raphael insisted. How could Haniel say such things? Or had the darkness already taken over? "I care about all of you."

Haniel shook his head sadly. "No. You care about _me_. There's a difference." Sighing, he stepped closer and caressed Raphael's cheek. "And I know you love me. And I'll always love you, but..."

 _But?_ But _what_? He could only think of one conclusion to that sentence. _Please, Lord,_ Raphael thought, refusing to let the tears shed. _If you're still listening to prayers, please don't let this be what I think this is._ "Han... what exactly are you trying to say?"

Haniel frowned and began to step back into his office. But he didn't close the door, not yet. With a single quick glance back at Raphael, he uttered the words the healer had never wanted to hear from the principality's lips. "I think we should break up."


	49. Chapter 49

Gabriel had forgotten just how glorious it felt to win until now. Haniel recanted and broke up with Raphael, Uriel and Sandalphon were coming home at last, and angels actually seemed _happy_ to see him again—or at least, they no longer looked at him with disdain, so he considered that a victory. Today was a good day.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Gabriel didn't need to look up from his work to know who it was or what the speaker was talking about. "I suppose." The view outside certainly was stunning and it was the main reason why he'd chosen to occupy the top floor in the first place, but now all it did was serve as a constant reminder of what hadn't occurred. It was like the landmarks were _mocking_ him. _Maybe it's time I got some curtains or something._

"Sometimes I wish I really _could've_ seen it all."

Gabriel laughed, though it was more out of pity. _He never really did get to live a full, long life._

"You seem to be in a much better mood today, by the way."

"Don't judge me, kid. Just let me live in the moment."

"So, you're _glad_ that your brother has gotten his heart broken, then?"

 _And now the moment's gone._ Apparently gossip traveled far and fast. Sighing, Gabriel set his pen down and folded his hands before looking up at his former charge. "Of course I'm not," he said. _Well, maybe a_ little _._ "But Haniel was a horrible influence on Raphael. Breaking up was probably the second good thing that principality has ever done."

"And the first?"

"Recanting, of course!" It was becoming harder to resist smiling. But the best thing about being the Son's former guardian was that he could just be himself around Him without _too_ much judgement.

Jesus however clearly didn't share his enthusiasm. "This is not what I asked," He said, glancing down at the copy of Haniel's formal statement. "In fact, I seem to distinctly remember assigning you and Haniel to—"

"—to answer a couple of complaints here and there that we both already knew weren't going to resolve anything because everyone wants different things?" Reaching out a hand to touch His, he added, "Come on, kid. I know You like to see the good in everyone, but even _You_ can't be this naive."

Jesus scowled—and He rarely ever scowled—and then His eyes darkened, and Gabriel wasn't really sure whether to apologize or make a run for his life. Because at the end of the day, former charge or not, this was still technically his boss he was speaking to.

Standing and crossing his small desk, Gabriel smiled sheepishly while giving a nervous laugh. "Which is to say—"

"Is it naive to want peace between your ranks, then?"

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Yet I'm not seeing you making much of an effort to fix things, either."

"I'm working on it!" Gabriel snapped. First he had to deal with Raphael patronizing him, now the man he'd practically helped _raise_ was doing the same thing? Where was the respect? "Patience is a virtue, kid. I guarantee, I'll have something ready by the end of the week. Now if you would please..." _Go away, leave me alone, I liked it better when You weren't getting_ _involved in_ _our conflict_ _!_ "...kindly leave so that I may continue figuring things out, that would be _lovely_." _After_ he finished going through fitting punishments, of course.

Jesus almost looked hurt by Gabriel's dismissal, but quickly regained composure and smiled. "Yes, of course, old friend," He said. "You know the angels best. Speaking of, just how _is_ Eloa these days?"

Eloa? _Eloa... Eloa..._ "Uh... fine?" Who the hell was Eloa? Heaven was a big place, perhaps _too_ big, and he couldn't be expected to remember every single angel by name, surely? _Oh, that's something I can definitely do!_ Creating a new way to keep track of the lesser angels seemed practical enough.

"Gabriel?"

"Hm?"

"There _is_ no Eloa."

Gabriel took the silence as an opportunity to briefly glance back at the papers. "I-I knew that!" he stammered. "And I know what you're doing." Forget punishments, the _system_ would be his first priority. And if he wanted to regain everyone's trust, learning their names seemed like a good place to start. "Look, Jesus, I know You're just trying to help and it's great You're so open-minded, but Haniel recanted, so things will be fine from now on."

"For you?"

"For _everyone_!" _Please,_ please _understand!_ Gabriel hated the desperation beginning to bubble up inside him. But if even his most precious friend wasn't on his side, then what exactly was he doing with his life? "Please," he continued softly while placing a hand on the Son's shoulder. "I'm asking You to trust me here, kid. May You be able to do that for me?"

Despite the concern that still etched His face, He said, "Very well, old friend. But this is your last chance to fix things. Should you fail, I'll simply assign a different angel to do the work for you. And I _want_ you to be the one to close the gap, Gabriel, but not if—"

"And I _will_!" said the Archangel with renewed confidence. "Don't you worry about a thing! And if helps ease your nerves, I'll get Uriel and Sandalphon to help me as well."

Jesus nodded, though He didn't seem any less relieved. Did He know something the angel didn't? "In that case, I'll leave you to it."

* * *

Gabriel was still going over the list of names the Metatron had sent him when Raphael called him into his office again, and he couldn't help but feel irritated towards his brother almost immediately after, no matter how much he tried to ignore it. _He better not start blaming me for the break up!_

Upon opening the door, the first thing Gabriel noticed was how dark it was for the most part, with the only source of light coming from Raphael's phone. The second was that his brother was huddled up in a blanket with a bowl of ice cream.

Well, at least it wasn't wine.

"Hey there, buddy," Gabriel said softly as he entered the room. There really was no telling how Raphael would react to seeing him while despairing, so he had to be cautious.

The closest thing Raphael came to replying was a grunt, nor did he take his eyes off the screen.

 _Oh. So it's gonna be like that, then._ "So... what are you watching?" He didn't wait for Raphael to reply to look at the screen himself, in time to see two characters on a balcony of some sort. "Are you watching _West Side Story_?" The volume was off, but he'd seen the film enough times to recognize Natalie Wood's Maria.

The other Archangel nodded wordlessly while shoving more ice cream into his mouth.

"And the volume is down because...?"

"I couldn't be bothered with turning it up and it's fun making up my own story," Raphael said at last. "Right now, Maria and Tony are singing about how their love is destined to fail."

Gabriel stared at his brother and then at the screen. "Fun." _I knew he'd react badly to the break up, but_ yikes _!_ What exactly had Haniel said to him? "You sure you don't want to watch something a little more light-hearted? Maybe a film where the actress is _actually_ singing her own songs?" Not that he had anything against Marni Nixon, but even if he did, a tragedy seemed to be the last thing Raphael needed.

"We're not watching _The Sound of Music_."

"Who said—"

"And besides, watching an inaccurate depiction of a real singing family who end up losing their home to the most despicable people in history? Oh yes, that all sounds _very_ light-hearted."

Gabriel frowned and scoffed. "Fine, have it your way, then," he grumbled. Because watching an adaptation of _Romeo and Juliet_ was _so_ much better. "Anyway, at least tell me why you called me in here."

At once, a single sheet of paper appeared in the younger Archangel's hand. "What's this?" Gabriel asked.

"New training schedule," Raphael explained. "Thought it'd be good to start again. Y'know, after Asmodeus defeated me and all."

"Ah, well, that's—wait, _what_?" Had he heard correctly? "Asmodeus defeated _you_?" He didn't even think it was possible for Raphael to lose a single fight in _general_ , much less one to his greatest rival.

Raphael shrugged, as though he didn't have a single care in the world. "And Hastur. And _Eric_. I should've seen it coming, too. And then little Tarshish got hurt because of me."

Part of Gabriel wanted to point out that Tarshish and practically every other angel created before the Fall were only a few millennia younger than himself, but that didn't seem too important right now. What Raphael needed right now was his family. "You were able to save her, right? She's still breathing?"

"Of course."

"Then if she's breathing, she'll live to fight another day." Raphael was a great fighter, and an even greater healer. "So you lost one time. There'll be others. And at least no one died."

This didn't seem to cheer Raphael up at all. "I still feel guilty, but I appreciate the effort."

Gabriel gently brushed his hand against his brother's arm. "Want me to leave you alone for now?"

"Mm-hmm." The healer seemed to be focusing on the silent film again anyway as he continued eating. "Oh, but just one question," he said as Gabriel walked towards the door.

The younger Archangel stopped and turned his head. "Yeah?"

"You didn't have anything to do with Haniel's recent change in behavior, did you?"

Gabriel flinched and glared at the healer. "You can't seriously be blaming me for him Falling!"

"That's not—"

"Or that recantation. Or breaking your heart into a million tiny pieces."

Raphael pulled his blanket tighter around him. "Gabriel, I—"

"When are you going to stop blaming everyone else for Heaven's problems and finally open your eyes to all the damage that traitor has done?"

Raphael was silent and didn't look angry, but from the phone's light, he was able to catch a glint of curiosity in his brother's eye. And then he asked, "You _are_ still talking about Haniel, right?" The worst part was that he almost sounded _smug_ when saying it. "Or do you speak of Aziraphale, and your mind has simply mistaken me for a member of the third sphere?"

By some miracle, Gabriel suppressed the urge to snap at him again. _Today's a new day, Gabe,_ he told himself. _Give him time. He's just upset and has no idea what he's saying._ Forcing a smile, he said, "Well, this was nice, but I really _must_ get going now! Enjoy the rest of your wallowing!"

* * *

Gabriel was the first and only angel to greet Uriel at the main entrance, which was just fine with him. "Welcome back!" he said, pulling his older sister into a hug. Looking around, he asked, "Er, where's Sandalphon?" He'd expected for the two angels to arrive together.

"Went on ahead," Uriel said in her usual clipped manner once Gabriel pulled away from her. "He said he wanted to speak to the Metatron about something personal and said it couldn't wait."

Disappointment tugged at him, but he tried to ignore it. Of course Sandalphon would want to see his own brother first. "Well, that's fine!" Gabriel said with as much enthusiasm as he could manage. "Anyway, how was life as a low Angel?"

"Well, France was lovely, for one thing," Uriel replied, and there was a strange lack of resentment in her voice. "Hakamiah was my supervisor, and we essentially spent each day answering prayers at a small church." Despite her reserved attitude, her gold face markings began to slightly glow when she said, "It was nice. Taking an active role again, I mean."

"Well, at least _one_ of us got to enjoy ourselves," Gabriel muttered.

Uriel glanced at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Er, long story."

She gave a little grunt in acknowledgment. "Well, I hope you were at least being treated well. And Michael. Speaking of, where _is_ she, anyway?" Uriel almost looked hurt. "I thought she'd come to greet me, but I understand if she's busy. Raphael, too."

Gabriel stopped in his tracks and stared at the light angel. "You... don't know?"

"Know what?"

 _Oh, God, no._ Today was supposed to be a good day! He could tell Uriel the truth tomorrow, surely? There was no need to mar this reunion with so much negativity. "Like you said, she's busy!" Gabriel said at last. "Really, _really_ busy. Same with Raphael. So let's not bother them!"

Uriel still appeared skeptical, but didn't press further. "Alright... In that case, any plans for today?"

"How about we just relax and watch some musicals for now?" He only promised his former charge he'd fix Heaven, but he never said _when_. And besides, didn't he deserve to spend the rest of the day with his favorite sister? _The kid will understand._

Uriel nodded soon after; maybe it was because she was also the chief angel of music, but she never really could resist a good musical, especially ones that featured Julie Andrews as a singing caretaker of some sort. "Sounds perfect. How about _The Sound of Music_?"

"You've read my mind!" At least _one_ of his siblings was back.


	50. Chapter 50

"Serial killer?"

"Crowley?"

"No! Mr. Fell!"

"You're reaching, Jane."

It'd been like this since breakfast, with the human playing detective and Michael either humoring her or outright debunking her more outlandish theories. Meanwhile, Aziraphale seemed to be too engrossed with cleaning his shop to really notice what Jane was saying.

"Vampire?"

"Absolutely not." _I think I liked it better when you were soft-spoken._ The woman was almost beginning to sound like Crowley. "Listen, Jane," Michael began as she took a seat beside the mortal, "even if either Ezra or Anthony were _any_ of the things you've been accusing them of being, do you really think I'd tell you?" And quite frankly, this was getting more and more disturbing. _A heretic_ and _some sort of thrill-seeker. Wonderful._

Only wonder glittered in the woman's wide eyes. "Meaning that no matter how close I get, I'll never know if I'm right or not?"

"Meaning that you're only wasting your time with this guessing game of yours." Really, what was wrong with this woman? Amnesia or not, Michael only had so much patience for these sort of antics. "Why don't we focus on something more serious? Trying to restore your memories, perhaps?" _Or have you forgotten about that as well, you nosy girl?_

Jane bit her bottom lip and glanced at her notepad for a brief second. "Yes, of course. How silly of me. Let me just put these away, yeah?" She got up and headed towards the staircase before Michael could reply.

From the corner of her eye, Michael caught Aziraphale looking at Jane with a concerned look on his face. _So,_ she thought, _looks like he'd been listening after all._ "Not one word, Aziraphale," she said when he turned to her.

"I wasn't criticizing," Aziraphale insisted. "But... well, you don't suppose she's bored, do you?"

"The door's right there, isn't it? And it's not like you're terribly busy right now."

"Well... technically yes, but she clearly trusts you more."

 _Not really._ Although, a trip to the local church _did_ sound rather nice. And just because the human had _one_ bad experience with a religious order didn't mean her faith couldn't be restored. _Perhaps it'll even help with her memories some way._

Jane came back a minute later, wearing the usual cheery smile that Michael had now come to believe was fake and probably always had been. "So, what shall we be doing today?" she asked, hands to her back.

"Well, I was thinking we could attend church," Michael said, and Jane immediately flinched. "I know you have a complicated relationship with religion already, but—"

"So you want me to go to a building that's associated with it?" The woman took a step back. "And what exactly would doing so even accomplish?"

"Help with your memories, for one thing," Michael pointed out. "Perhaps going to somewhere somewhat similar to your abbey will ring some bells." Jane however looked like a deer in headlights now, brown eyes wide with true fear for the first time. What an overreaction. _It's just a church, it's not going to hurt you._ And Soho was technically under Aziraphale's protection, wasn't it? "I'm sure it'll be fine, Jane."

Aziraphale was soon at the human's side. "But the choice is completely yours," he said gently. "We wouldn't do anything to make you feel uncomfortable. _Right_ , Michelle?"

 _Well, of course_ you're _against the idea!_ No surprise there, really. But why God had spared him, she'd probably never know. "Right! And I'm sure both of you have _plenty_ of other ideas anyway. I'd simply _love_ to hear them."

Both Aziraphale and Jane were silent and exchanged nervous glances, and Michael felt an instant spike of annoyance at being the only competent one in the room again.

"I... _suppose_ going to a church could help," Jane began. "But prayer is what you want, right? Given what we talked about last night?"

That was only partly true, but Michael still nodded.

"Then why don't we just do so here?" Her reluctance couldn't be anymore obvious, but at least the human was willing to compromise.

If only the same could've been said for Aziraphale, who looked even more anxious than before. "A-are you sure about this?" he asked as he twiddled his fingers. "Why don't we just wait for R—"

"Who knows how long that'll take?" Knowing him, Raziel was probably still trying to revive his failure of a newspaper than doing anything even _remotely_ useful. "And you don't _have_ to be here for this, you know." _He probably doesn't want any more attention to be drawn to him._ Understandable, perhaps, but still rather selfish as far as Michael was concerned. "Now, if that's all, come with me, Jane."

Jane nodded, back to her usual obedient self, and shot Aziraphale a sympathetic glance before following Michael in silence, until they both kneeled before the crucifix. "I still don't see the point of this," she said in a low voice, as though doing so would hide her from Heaven in some way. "What does praying have to do with unlocking my past? Or is this simply your way of trying to convert me to.... I'm very sorry, which branch of Christianity do you subscribe to again?"

Michael's mouth twitched. _Well, she's right about_ something, at least. And if the abbey's patron really _was_ Uriel, then hopefully it wouldn't be long before the words reached her sister's ears. "Just fold your hands and close your eyes, Jane. You can even pray to that angel of yours if you want."

Jane glared at her and muttered something under her breath, but didn't argue any further.

 _Thank God._ Relieved, Michael was about to join her, perhaps even try to contact God Herself, when she heard Aziraphale approach her. "What is it?" she asked. She didn't even try hiding her annoyance.

"Would you mind coming with me?" he asked, glancing at Jane for a second. "Just for a minute?"

 _Probably wants to criticize me again!_ Not wishing to argue, Michael stood and followed him until they were near the main entrance. "Let me guess, you're going to tell me to have more patience with the girl, right?"

"Er, well, yes... but perhaps more importantly—"

"Don't bother tryin' to reason with her, Aziraphale. It ain't worth it."

 _Raziel!_ Michael immediately turned her head to see the angel who had essentially abandoned her. He looked a little different now, with his usual tan suit having been replaced with a pure, crisp white one, and his hair looked like it'd been neatly combed.

He looked simply miserable.

She wasn't _that_ bad, was she?

 _Of course not!_ Raziel was just being dramatic. "Well, it's about time—"

Raziel quickly interrupted her. "Before you say anythin' else, just know that I'm now your official guardian and if you got a problem with that, take it up with Upstairs."

Michael could only stare at him, more confused than anything. He was joking, right? And if he wasn't, why would he have agreed to such a thing, when he so clearly resented her as much as the rest of his sphere did?

As though reading her thoughts—and perhaps he was—Raziel gave a little huff and said, "Hey, I don't like this any more than you do! The only reason I'm doin' this is because Haniel practically ordered me to."

Michael frowned. Somehow, she'd forgotten all about the angel who'd gotten her into this mess in the first place. "Does a _principality_ command Heaven now?" She'd meant it as a sort of joke, but almost as soon as she said the words, she felt a shiver down her spine. She trusted Raphael to take care of things in her absence, but who knew what kind of leader he'd make with a traitor as his partner?

As though she hadn't spoken at all, Raziel then turned to Aziraphale. "And speakin' of things I've been sent to do, where's your sword?"

Aziraphale suddenly took a step back. "S-sword?"

"Yeah, the one given to you by God when—"

"Yes, yes, I know which sword you're talking about." Clearing his throat, he added, "Sorry, I'm just curious why Heaven has been asking about it _now_."

Raziel gave a wry smile. "What, did you wanna keep it as a souvenir or somethin'? Now go on and summon it so I can at least get this part of my new job over with."

 _You can't at least_ pretend _to be nice?_

"Er... summon... yes, of course."

Michael tapped her foot. "You _do_ know how to summon your sword, don't you? Didn't Crowley say it was at his flat?"

Aziraphale nodded, but looked almost reluctant. "Y-yes, I suppose he _did_ say that, didn't he?"

"Hold up!" Raziel shook his head. "You gave your sword to a _demon_?"

 _Thank you!_ Michael couldn't resist smiling. _I guess this means Gabriel didn't release that recording after all._ The reason didn't matter, not when Raziel now knew as well. For once, she found herself hoping for the _Observer_ to be back in business.

"I thought you didn't have a problem with Crowley," Aziraphale said.

"He's still a _demon_!" Raziel groaned. "Oh, whatever! Just summon it already."

But Aziraphale simply looked down, as though he were hoping for the floor to swallow him whole. "I'm afraid I can't do that." Looking up, he added, "N-not yet, anyway! Because I have to clean it first!"

" _Clean_ it?" Michael echoed in disbelief.

"Indeed!" Aziraphale smiled widely. "I've been meaning to do it sooner, but well, you know how time tends to slip away from you."

Raziel rolled his eyes. "You really expect me to believe that?" he asked. "Anyway, just lettin' you know now that you've got six days to get that sword back Upstairs, or else. Got it?" It was odd seeing the archangel even _trying_ to act threatening.

Aziraphale nodded again. "Of course! Now if you'll both excuse me, I really must get back to cleaning the rest of my shop!"

"He better not have lost it," Michael grumbled as Aziraphale quickly left her and Raziel alone. The punishment she would've given to such a reckless act would've surely been severe. _But I'm not an angel anymore._ And if the third sphere had their way, she likely wouldn't even be in any sort of position of power at all when she got back. Setting these thoughts aside, she turned to Raziel and attempted a welcoming smile. "It's good to see you again."

"Wish I could say the same." Despite his blunt tone, Raziel still gave her a quick hug. "How have you been?"

"Fine," Michael said curtly. "And Jane's currently praying by the crucifix, in case you were wondering."

Raziel nodded, but from the look of sorrow in his eyes, he only seemed to barely be listening to her.

"Raziel?" she began. "What's wrong?"

The archangel took two steps back from her and began to blink rapidly. "N-nothin'. Just that... H-Haniel recanted. Congratulations. You've won."

 _You've won._ The words she'd been waiting to hear for so long now, coming from Raziel's own lips. But she was surprised when she didn't feel any elation whatsoever, like Gabriel likely was now. No, this victory felt... hollow somehow. And seeing Raziel so distraught only made it worse. _Maybe I'll feel better when I'm an angel again._ It wasn't a true victory until she celebrated with her rank. "I didn't realize humiliating your superiors had all been part of some sort of game, Raziel."

He flinched, and she did her best to stifle and guilt or pity that was threatening to show itself.

"Right, well," he began awkwardly, "since you've gotten me involved in your little web of lies, I had to get one of the healers to help me so that I'd know _something_ about neurology."

Michael gave a nervous laugh. "Right. Sorry about that. Er, will they also be joining us?"

He nodded. "Yeah, he should be here right about—"

As though in answer, a knock on the door soon interrupted him.

"—oh, now. It's open!"

Michael turned to face the door and put on a smile again. Whoever it was, she might as well make him feel comfortable. _Just so long as it's not..._

"Michael!" The angel immediately rushed towards her and greeted her with a tight hug. "It's good to see you! I'm so sorry for not stopping by sooner."

Michael felt her fingers curl until they were piercing the palms of her hands. "Good to see you, too, Raphael." Once he pulled away, she added, "And don't worry about it. I know how _busy_ you are. In fact, how long will you be staying here?" Though she loved her brother dearly and the two had made amends long ago, there was just something about him being in the bookshop for several months that bothered her.

Raphael must've sensed her discomfort, because he responded with, "You know I have a house in London, right? And it's only for a few days, just so I can observe her, take a few DNA samples, and then report my findings to Zadkiel. I'll be out of your wings again before you know it."

Michael stiffened at the word _wings_. _Is he trying to mock me?_ And what did he mean by _again_? Unless he really _did_ still feel bitter over his probation.

"Where is the human, anyway?"

Raziel answered him before Michael could. "By the wall crucifix, sir," he said, pointing the way.

 _Sir?_ Raziel hadn't spoken so formally since the 1700s. Did Raphael really command so much respect?

The healer didn't seem to notice anything wrong however, and simply nodded. "Thank you," he said, and then turned Michael again. "Sister, won't you please join me? Raziel, you can tell Aziraphale that I've arrived."

"Right away, sir."

 _How strange,_ Michael thought as she watched Raziel leave. She'd have to talk to him about it later.

"How have you been, Michael?" Raphael asked as she began to walk beside him.

"I'm well," she replied. "All things considered, of course." And that was as much as she would tell him. _He doesn't need to worry about Nithael._ The demon was _her_ problem, not his. "And you? Raziel told me that you and Gabriel got into a fight."

Raphael stopped walking and clenched his fist. "Did he now?" he asked without looking at her. "What else did that talebearer say to you?"

"Hey, now." Michael touched his arm. "That's not fair, don't you think?" _The world has truly gone mad if I'm willingly defending_ Raziel _of all angels._ Still, as her only connection to Heaven, him giving her updates were to be expected.

Raphael shrugged her off, but still wouldn't look at her. "I suppose," he muttered.

"Are you feeling well?"

"I'm _fine_! Let me just see this Jane of yours, alright?"

Michael slowly nodded. Raphael wasn't usually so cold and distant. Was he upset that Haniel recanted? Or maybe it was something else. Regardless, that didn't mean he had to take his anger out on _her_. _Whatever's bothering him, he better get over it soon!_ She refused to be a scapegoat.

They walked in silence the rest of the way, until they found Jane right where Michael had left her, still deep in prayer. The former angel smiled and then whispered to her brother, "Let's let her finish."

But rather than following, Raphael stayed where he was.

"Raph?" _What now?_ She tapped his shoulder a few times, and that finally got him to face her again.

"Sorry," he said, seeming embarrassed now. "Just... uh... one question."

"What?"

"Why didn't you just say that Jane was the mother of the Antichrist?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, kudos to anyone who caught the serial killer reference. Second, because I want to focus more on this one Christmas-related fic I've been working on, it'll probably be some time before the next chapter. I was seriously not expecting for this to go on for as long as it has or for it to go on for nearly a year, but I guess this is what quarantine does to you. ^^
> 
> Anyway, I'd like to take the time to thank those who have stuck around. I appreciate the kind comments and I'm glad my writing (messy as it is), could brighten your days. And in the meantime, feel free to check out my [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/queenarsinoeoffennbirn) if you have any questions or even just wanna chat or whatever.


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, and Happy New Year! I hope you all had a happy and safe holidays, and may this year be better for all of us than the last. Anyway, I thought I'd post the next chapter now to sort of celebrate, but just so I don't burn myself out while also giving myself time to plan things out, the schedule will now be at least every Friday from today. So, enjoy!

"...and then there was an altercation between—"

"Let me guess: a jilted lover wishing to get back at whoever broke their heart?"

"Er... yes, lord."

Satan slumped into his obsidian throne and gave a heavy sigh, more disappointed in Hastur than angry. It'd been like this since the previous month: kidnappings, arson, altercations, even an _attempted_ murder just recently. When did tempting get so _boring_? "I suppose this is _something_ ," he said at last, which immediately caused Asmodeus to grin when he glanced at her. "However, I fully expect something a little more... _creative_ from now on."

Hastur gave a quick, but determined nod. "Of course, sir! I promise not to disappoint ya!"

 _We'll see about that._ He was beginning to remember why he'd once regarded Crowley as his favorite, low as he'd been in the hierarchy.

"Did you run into any angelzzz?" Beelzebub asked as they scribbled down Hastur's deeds. "I can't imagine they'd approve of so much unrest."

"Only Raphael and a Virtue earlier today, Beelzebub." Then Hastur frowned. "Which _does_ seem rather strange, don't it? You'd think they'd try to interfere sooner."

As the rest of his council shared curious and skeptical glances, Satan took a long sip of wine to keep himself from laughing. "Is that so?" he said at last, feigning surprise.

"Can't be that _all_ the angels are avoiding Earth," Belphegor said. "I saw Hakamiah recently." After pausing for a bit, he tapped his chin and added, "Although, she _did_ seem rather morose when I tried to speak to her."

Asmodeus twitched beside Hastur at the mention of France's protector. "Hasn't she been that way since her country's revolution?"

"I meant more than usual, _ma chéri_."

"Would you like me to investigate this, lord?" Leviathan asked, her blue-black eyes pleading. "I can even get Behemoth and our children to assist me."

Satan shook his head, much to the surprise of everyone in the room. "That won't be neccessary, dear. For all we know, Michael and Gabriel could just be putting them through intense training sessions for the time being." Standing, he added, "Speaking of, we should be doing the same. Mammon, Leviathan, meet me in the training hall with your subordinates in one hour. Beelzebub, you'll do the scheduling and make sure to inform me when it's ready. The rest of you, carry on with what you were doing before." _This should keep you all busy for now._

Belphegor appeared dismayed at not being given a specific task, but kept quiet. Soon, everyone was gone, and Satan felt relieved. He could only take so much of his council for one day.

He then snapped his fingers not a moment later, and at once, the walls of his throne room were decorated with silver mirrors of all shapes and sizes. The gems encrusted within them glistened and bounced off the reflective surfaces with the help of the little light that was currently present, brightening the room. It wasn't much and he'd have to get rid of them at some point, but even despite his best efforts, this was perhaps the most light Hell had ever had. The dimness they had now barely counted, and using candlelight became tedious after awhile, but the rest of his demons didn't seem to care too much either way. But of course they didn't, because he'd been the one to encourage such apathy in the first place.

 _Evil sows the seeds to_ _its own_ _destruction,_ he thought with irritation, and then approached one of the mirrors. And it wasn't because he wanted to see his own reflection—well, not _completely_ , anyway. "Show me Michael, commander of the angels!"

Mist swirled around until it completely shrouded the mirror's surface, and after just mere seconds, it became clear to Satan that it wouldn't lift. She must still be in that principality's bookshop, then; he'd gotten similar results since last month whenever he didn't see his sister roaming through the streets, and he'd guessed the angel had put a miracle in place to prevent anyone from spying on him, even unintentionally. He'd been quick to discover that it'd been the same with Crowley, and he could almost call the traitors clever for going to such lengths to protect themselves.

 _Almost_.

"Fine, then." Nothing that couldn't be fixed, at least as far as his sister was concerned. He let the mirrors be as he sat back at his desk, feeling a strange sort of comfort by their presence. So what if this kept up the rumors of him being a raging narcissist?

"Sir?"

Satan drew his gaze away from the mirrors and towards the door, in time to see Nithael bowing to him. He glared at her and was about to yell at her for interrupting whatever important thing he was pretending to do, until she said, "You asked to see me, lord?"

Her appointment. Right. _Oh stars, I'm getting old._ "Indeed, Nithael," he replied after clearing his throat. "Take a seat."

She obeyed, but not before looking around at the new decorations with dilated, glittering eyes. "So, what is this about?" she asked, not even bothering to look at him. It was as though she'd forgotten who she was speaking to in her distraction.

Suddenly the dim lighting didn't seem so bad anymore.

"Your project?" He drummed his fingers on his desk as a way to get her attention."How is that coming along?"

She shook her head and blinked rapidly a few times, and then turned to face him at last. "My project, sir?"

A rush of irritation coursed through him then. How daft could one demon be? "Yes," he replied slowly, as though speaking to a child. "The one you practically insisted on working on to use as a punishment for our fellow demons? The one that would turn them mortal for a time? _That_ project?"

She leaned back in her chair, as if to distance herself from him as she possibly could, and it was clear from the worried look on her face that she hadn't forgotten at all. "Oh. _That_ project. Yes, well, you see... The thing is..."

"Have you made any progress _at all_ or not?" His voice was harsh. He wasn't in the mood for games.

"Mmm...." She slumped into her chair and mumbled in response, which only caused Satan to scratch his desk out of impatience.

"Do speak up, Nithael!" he snapped. "You know how I hate mumbling. But then again, it appears your reluctance has told me everything I need to know." As soon as the words left his lips, he was already thinking of how to punish her. _The hellhounds could use some playtime. Or I could just wipe my hands clean of her and make her Heaven's problem._ Nithael was at the bottom of the hierarchy, so he doubted there'd be too many questions regarding her absence anyway.

"I can't do it!" Nithael covered her mouth after blurting out the words.

Satan growled. "What do you mean you _can't do it_?"

"I... I've tried, sir!" she answered, and there seemed to be a whine in her voice. "But when I attempted to use holy water instead of Hellfire—"

"Wait!" Satan interrupted while looking at her in disbelief. "What the Heaven were you doing with holy water?"

"Well, I used Hellfire for the last one, so I figured I had to get the opposite for this one," she explained. "An angel gave it to me and has even been assisting me, but before you ask, I can't reveal his identity."

Satan stared at her as she ducked her head. Part of him wanted to laugh, though he wasn't completely sure why. "Can you at least say _why_ you can't reveal his identity?" he asked at last. "Did you make a deal with him?"

She stayed silent, which probably meant _yes_. An angel making a deal with a demon, and so soon after the averted Apocalypse as well. How intriguing.

 _Can't be Crowley's little boyfriend, though._ It was doubtful that either of the traitors would willingly want anything to do with either Heaven or Hell ever again. So it had to be someone who still had Upstairs' trust. "Are you at least able to say his rank?"

Nithael opened her mouth, until she furrowed her brow. "I _can_ ," she said. "I'm just not sure if I _should_."

He gritted his teeth. "Why _not_?"

"Because that same angel may or may not be kind of... Falling."

Had this been over five thousand years ago, he would've sent for an investigation immediately, made Heaven paranoid, revel in winning yet another batch of followers. And perhaps he would've done the same now, had it not been for the begging and crying and whining that still somehow managed to seem so fresh in his mind.

There was a reason why he encouraged his demons to have as many children as possible, even if it _was_ with mortals. Numbers were always good, but not at the cost of having a repeat of the Watchers. If this angel Fell, then he Fell—and he _would_ , since there was clearly no way to reverse the curse—but it didn't seem worth it to get involved just to speed things up.

"Oh," Satan said at last, not even bothering with feigning enthusiasm. "Is that all? Is it only one?"

Nithael nodded, looking almost relieved by his reaction. Was it an angel she'd been close with? And if so, _how_ close? "As far as I know, yes. And to answer your other question, it's a principality."

Satan groaned, drawing a hand down his face. He'd had just about enough of principalities. _So it's not even someone important!_ "Well, thank you for informing me, I suppose. We'll just let him Fall on his own. As for _you_ , little one..."

Nithael's fear was quick to reappear. "Yes, sir?"

"I've half a mind to kill you for your failure," he said. "Not that I'm surprised, but I do admit that I had my hopes. It gets so terribly boring issuing the same penalties, wouldn't you agree?"

Nithael gulped. "Of... course, sir."

"But fortunately for you, I still need you." Nodding his head towards the mirror he'd recently been looking into, he added, "For instance, remove Michael's limit to the outside world."

"W-what?" she asked. "But why?"

"Because I said so." The growl in his voice returned, and that seemed to do the trick. _No one_ questioned him and got away with it! "In fact, shorten the length of her curse as well. Until Christmastime should do it, I think. And really, what were you thinking, forty months?"

"I-I thought it would be fitting." Her voice was so soft that she barely heard him.

"I care not symbolism, I care for _chaos_! And I can't revel in it so long as Michael is practically trapped."

"But Aziraphale—"

"If they haven't tried to kill each other yet, then they never will! And even if they did, what does it matter if I can't even witness it?" Then he cupped her face, and his claws soon pierced her cheeks. "Just do as I say, sunshine," he said with much sweetness. "You don't want to disappoint me, do you?"

She whimpered and shook her head.

"Excellent!" He let go of her before she could bleed. "Now, do go on and tend to the hounds, will you?"

She started to sputter. "B-but you said I wouldn't be punished!"

He laughed; lesser demons truly were quite amusing, weren't they? "My dear, I said I wouldn't _kill_ you. And those dogs aren't going to care for themselves, you know. But if you _want_ the alternative, then I suppose—"

Nithael stood before he could finish and nearly knocked over her chair. "I-I'll get right to it, sir!" She scurried away afterwards and closed the door behind her.

Satan felt at ease as soon as she left. Finally, at least until the hour was up, he had some time all to himself. No boring reports, no irritating council, no—

_"Er, hello."_

Prayers! Hadn't he learned to block them out by now? "Oh, let's just get this over with," he grumbled. "What is your wish, child?" It sounded feminine. And surprisingly familiar. "Mirrors, show me the source of the prayer!"

To his surprise, they were just as they'd been when he'd asked for Michael—showing nothing but pure mist. Were they broken?

_"So, I'm new to this whole prayer thing—"_

_Clearly._ He didn't think he'd ever heard anyone more nervous than how this one was now. Must be a new one, then, but still.

_"—but my... friend... encouraged me to give it a try, so that's what I'm doing now! Frankly, I doubt this'll work and I understand if you're very busy—"_

_Oh, a clever one!_ Satan almost wished he could actually reply back; he was the _king of demons_ , not a genie! This one understood.

_"—but I also don't want to upset her any more than I probably already have, so here goes nothing!"_

Okay, so a bit of a doormat as well. They couldn't all be winners.

"If this truly is the angel Uriel I'm speaking to, then—"

 _"URIEL!?"_ Satan spat out his younger sister's name like it was venom, and at once miracled a small radio on his desk in hopes of drowning out the voice. Even listening to the recordings of Lady Florence was better than this. Still, why would he be recieving a prayer clearly meant for Heaven? Was this perhaps a former charge?

 _No, can't be._ He hadn't had one since the nineteenth century. But that still didn't explain why the voice sounded familiar. And frighteningly so now that he thought about it. An old acquaintance, then? Or lover? Both were laughable, but not completely impossible. Most humans looked the same to him, though, and he hadn't even met one since...

Since...

 _But she's_ dead _._ Or was _supposed_ to be. And the nuns had been so devoted to him that they wouldn't have dared go against an order. Then again, there'd once been a time where he'd thought the same of Crowley.

"Lord?"

Satan didn't even need to look at the door to see that Beelzebub had returned. "I assume the schedule is ready?"

They nodded and walked over to place the paper of his desk. "I've divided them by supervisor, so I'm first, but we can make an exception for today. Then—"

"Yes, yes, that's good, Beelzebub." Then he stood and began to walk past them. "Now do excuse me. I simply _must_ have a word with our old friend Death."


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New username, new chapter!

Name: Christine Muriel Morgenstern (neé Johnson)  
Date of Birth: 17 August 1981  
Age: 37  
Father: Harold Johnson  
Mother: Elizabeth Johnson (neé Staurt)  
Spouse: Lucius Morgenstern

_Lucius Morgenstern._ Michael had to stop reading after that; her brother had never really been the creative type. _If_ this was indeed her brother that was being referred to. And the picture beside the profile looked similar enough to Jane, though the woman in the photograph had much longer hair and—perhaps most concerning—she wore a stoic look on her face that just made her seem miserable, and Michael swore she could almost see fear in the woman's eyes. Someone had their arm wrapped around her while she held a large bouquet of flowers, and atop her head rested a black crown.

"That's the last picture taken of her," Raziel said as he loomed over Michael's shoulder. "I'm _pretty sure_ it's from her weddin' day," He then took the tablet from her. "Let me just try to expand it a bit, and... yeesh!" He grimaced as he passed it back to her.

No wonder Christine—or Jane—or whoever she was—looked so melancholy; beside her was a familiar sharply-dressed man with wavy black hair and blue eyes. His black suit matched his wife's poofy dress, and he wore a grin that somehow made him seem menacing. Michael hated him immediately.

 _You've never changed, little brother,_ she thought, and as she continued to glare at the screen, she noticed several more women behind them. Nuns, judging by the robes and habits; they were all bowing as candles were lit all around them, and several of them had their eyes set on the couple, most in adoration while others in concern. Altogether, the image just made Michael feel uncomfortable. _Had the Antichrist known?_ she thought, thinking back to his earlier behavior.

"It looks more like a funeral than a wedding," Raphael commented in disgust as he too loomed over Michael to get a better look of the photo. "Or a cult. Poor girl."

Michael silently agreed. Regardless if it was Jane or not, no one should have to feel sad on what she knew was supposed to be a special day. "You knew her?" asked the former angel.

Raphael nodded when Michael turned her head towards him. But he also seemed confused. "I was assigned to be her obstetrician, remember?" He paused, and then asked with concern, "You _do_ remember, don't you? I think you've even met her a few times yourself."

Michael stood and backed away before Raphael could touched her. "Of course I remember!" She hated how defensive that sounded.

Raziel narrowed his eyes. "Why didn't you say anythin', then? We could've solved this ages ago of you'd just spoken up."

"Well, humans change with age, don't they? And besides," she added nonchalantly, "they all look the same to me, anyway."

The two angels glanced at each other, neither responding and clearly not believing a single word she was saying.

"Are you feeling alright?" Raphael asked.

 _Says the one who snapped at me earlier!_ Raphael was generally kind, but he really had no room to be concerned. After all, where where had he been when Gabriel visited? "I'm fine, Raphael," she said at last. "But enough about me." She glanced upward; Jane had been put to sleep again, this time by Raphael, and wouldn't wake up for at least another hour or so. "We need to decide what to do next. Any suggestions?"

It was Aziraphale who spoke, approaching the three with a plate of scones. "I think we should take her to her family," he said. "They'll probably know what to do more than us."

"Are you sure you aren't just saying that because you don't want her in your shop?" she teased after grabbing one of the baked treats. "Anyone else?"

"How about I have her stay with me?" said Raphael. "Like I said, I have residence in London. And I think it'd be good for her to have someone familiar by her side in case she starts to remember something. The rest of you can try to find this abbey of hers in the meantime."

"And what of your duties to Heaven?"

"I can manage both. And if not," Raphael added after taking a bite out of a scone, "it certainly wouldn't be the _first_ time someone has covered for me."

There was that bitterness again.

As though remembering Aziraphale and Raziel were still present, Raphael cleared his throat and said, "But really, don't worry about me. So, all in favor of this plan?"

"Aye..." said an awkward Aziraphale and Raziel in unison. Why did Raphael have to bring up the past _now_?

He clasped his hands. "Excellent! In that case, I'll come for her as soon as she wakes up. I better see to my house in the meantime." Touching Aziraphale's shoulder, he added, "And thank you for having me, dear one. Your hospitality is much appreciated."

 _It wasn't like he had much of a choice,_ Michael thought. Aziraphale had barely even talked to his former supervisor since he arrived.

But Aziraphale, being the polite angel that he was, simply said, "The pleasure is all mine, Raphael. And I wish you luck with helping Miss Smith."

No one bothered correcting him, which was probably for the best. To think of her as the Devil's—albeit unhappy—wife invited all sorts of feelings of discomfort. Just because she'd been miserable didn't necessarily mean she'd been on Heaven's side.

Gathering a few more scones into a pouch he'd miracled, Raphael then turned to Michael and asked, "Won't you walk with me for a bit?" He was already heading out the door just as she'd opened her mouth to protest.

"Of course, Raphael..." She _was_ still the older sibling, wasn't she?

Raphael inhaled the crisp autumn air as soon as they stepped outside. "Lovely day, don't you think?" he said in a chipper tone. "Oh, what a shame you don't have your wings anymore, Michael. We could've gone flying today. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Michael clenched her fist. _Does he hate me so much that he has to rub it in?_ "Another time, perhaps."

He'd apparently caught onto his insensitivity, because guilt was soon written all over his face. "Oh, dear. I'm so sorry! I didn't mean—"

"It's fine." _It's_ fine _!_ This wouldn't last. She'd be immortal again soon and be useful and... and then what? This couldn't be allowed to happen again, that much was obvious. _Perhaps I should speak with the other leaders before I go back. Get a head start on things._ _If_ they were even willing to listen to her again, that is.

If they didn't still fear her. She could never allow herself to forget what'd gotten her into this mess in the first place. And in a way, this was just another battle to fight. She'd go over the variables and then make her move when the time was right, whenever that would be.

 _The holidays are in a few months, aren't they?_ Heaven, being what it was, didn't have a preference for one religion or the other, but there was no reason why she couldn't get them all gifts for Hannukah or Christmas or whatever other wintertime celebration there was. Maybe she'd earn their trust then. _Wait, does this count as bribery?_ And what if they got greedy? It was, after all, why they didn't celebrate any holidays in the first place. _But perhaps... just this once..._

"Michael!"

Raphael's panicked voice snapped Michael out of her thoughts, but before she could ask him what was wrong, he grabbed her arm in a rough grip and pulled her back. "Ow!" She rubbed her arm when he let her go. "What the Hell is wrong with you, Raph?"

"What's wrong with _me_?" He began to tremble. " _You're_ the one who needs to watch where you're going!" With a shaking hand, he pointed towards the road, where a car sped by. Only a second later did the light change green.

 _Oh, God!_ Michael felt her heart pounding. Another step, and she might've... she could've... "I'm fine, Raphael."

He seemed alarmed by her calmness. "You nearly died," he said flatly as tears began to well up. "You..." He covered his mouth to hold back a sob.

Part of Michael wanted to scoff, to say he was being overdramatic and accuse him of thinking her fragile. But another part, one much larger than the other, knew this wasn't what he needed to hear right now. "Come here." She brought him into her arms and allowed him to cry on her shoulder.

Though her eyes stung, Michael refused to do the same; _someone_ still needed to be strong, it might as well be her. _I'm mortal now._ She felt crushed by the reminder as she rubbed Raphael's back. _I need to be careful._ "Come, now." She pulled away and kissed the top of his head. "Calm down and dry those eyes. I didn't get hit. I'm fine, aren't I?"

Raphael sniffled and nodded. "Mm-hm."

"Then you've nothing to cry over, little one." Brushing his hair out of his face, Michael gave a gentle smile and said, "Why don't you go and get things ready for Ja—Chr— _her_?" This was going to get confusing. _I'll settle with Jane for now._ "We can just catch up later, okay?"

Raphael appeared to be in a daze, but he soon nodded. "Y-yes... o-of course! I'll get to it right now!"

"Wonderful. In that case, I'll see you again in a few hours."

She began to walk back to the bookshop when Raphael spoke again, his voice barely a whisper. "Michael?"

Michael sighed, back still turned to him. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

 _Sorry?_ "Whatever are you—?" But her brother was gone by the time she finally turned around. _That was strange._ But then, that was Raphael—strange and perhaps just a bit _too_ sensitive at times. And yet, she clutched her hands anyway and sent up a silent prayer. _Please, Lord._ _Please protect Your servant Raphael from whatever ails him._

A healer angel ailing. Michael almost laughed at the irony of it all, and she knew God probably would as well.

_God._

Why hadn't She spoken to her yet? A comforting word, a scolding— _anything_ , really! Did She really not care at all? _No, of course She does!_ Michael shook her head. God was just busy, as always. And true, she hadn't directly spoken to the Lord in centuries, but that didn't mean the Almighty no longer loved her, right? Right! "I'll see Her again soon. And by then, I'll be forgiven."

Everything would be fine when she returned. And perhaps if Michael kept repeating this often enough, she'd eventually come to believe it.


	53. Chapter 53

Dread settled in the pit of Raphael's stomach even after returning to Heaven rather than his home in London. _I should've stayed with Michael._ Who left their loved one alone after they'd practically gone through a near-death experience? _But she won't be alone._ She'd be fine with Aziraphale and Raziel, surely? He'd see her again later, when Christine awoke again in two hours—more than enough time to relay his information to Zadkiel and the other memory angels, to reunite with Uriel, to...

No. No, he couldn't talk to Haniel, or at least not yet. He'd let the principality have his space first, and then after a week or two, perhaps things would go back to normal between them by then. This was no time to be selfish. And if there was one thing Michael had been right about, it was that he still had a duty to Heaven. That always came first.

"Good afternoon, Raphael."

Raphael smiled at the angel passing him. "Oh, yes. Good afternoon..." Which angel was this one again? Someone from the lower ranks was his guess, which didn't help narrow it down at all. _Okay, I think I'm beginning to see Haniel's point,_ he thought, his earlier encounter with Aliza and Noam coming to mind. But he couldn't be blamed for something like this, surely? Not when Heaven was as ginormous as it was.

If the angel noticed his struggle with properly addressing them, they kept it to themselves and went on their merry way.

_Note to self, come up with a way to know everyone's names._ On the bright side, at least no one was avoiding each other anymore— _something_ he could thank Asmodeus and Hastur for, though he'd never admit to such a thing aloud. He could still feel the tension coming off from most of them, but with any luck, it wouldn't be long before things finally started to ease once and for all. He just hoped his training schedule wouldn't somehow make things worse.

Raphael continued to pass by several more angels on his way to the Seventh Heaven, where the leaders of the first two spheres would no doubt be. They greeted him, and he in turn, but the more he walked, the more unsettling he found the smiles and politeness to be. Haniel recanted only a few hours ago, hadn't he? Thinking about it, there was no way the lower spheres would just accept defeat with grace after fighting for weeks. So either Raphael really didn't know the third sphere as well as he'd thought he did, or they were lying. But _why_? They could be honest with him, couldn't they?

They didn't blame _him_ for this, did they?

Raphael shook his head. _Not important right now, Raph!_ He snapped out of it just in time to see Zadkiel walking towards him, her nose buried in a book. "Zadkiel! I was just trying to find you!"

The Dominion lifted her head at once. "Raphael! Great to see you out and about. What can I do for you?"

For a moment, Raphael thought he saw pity in her eyes, but he decided to ignore it. "I was wondering if you could help with restoring the memories of a young woman." He quietly reminded himself that this was no longer about the mortal, but Michael as well—the fact that she hadn't remembered him being assigned to Christine was worrisome. Still, one problem at a time for now.

"Certainly!" Soon, Zadkiel pulled out a miniature tablet from her suit's inside pocket and then asked, "What's her name?"

"Christine Muriel..." He paused. Maybe this was a bad idea. "Er, maiden name or—?"

"Whichever, though maiden is preferable, since it'll help with finding her bloodline faster if need be. Unless you already know it, of course."

Raphael nodded. "I do. Maiden name is Johnson, and she's the daughter of Harold Johnson and Elizabeth Stuart."

Zadkiel acknowledged his words with a hum, though she never took her eyes off the screen. "And do you know _how_ she lost her memory?"

"Apparently it was through drinking Lethe water."

Zadkiel finally looked at him with wide eyes and gave a soft laugh. "Oh, Lethe water! Of course! Next you're going to tell me that Death has taken a bride." She laughed again, which grew a little louder, and she must've noticed that Raphael wasn't joining in, because it didn't take long for her to stop. "Y-you're not joking are you?"

Raphael shook his head sadly. "I wish I was."

Her brow creased, and she then glanced at her tablet again before returning her gaze to him. "Then if what you say is true, I'm afraid there isn't anything I can do for you."

"But—"

"But _nothing_!" she snapped. "I would want nothing more than to help, believe me, but if your girl somehow got her hands on the Water of Forgetfulness, then she's a lost cause no matter what anyone does. And just how _did_ she get ahold of something so powerful, anyway?"

Raphael sighed. " _That's_ what I'm trying to figure out." Of course, being Satan's wife, it was likely a demon simply gave it to her somehow, but Zadkiel didn't need to know that, did she? "What else am I suppose to do, then? I refuse to give up on her."

Zadkiel looked thoughtful for a moment, a brief glimmer of admiration in her eyes. "Well, I suppose there _might_ be _someone else_ who could help..."

"Who?" Raphael prompted. "At this point, I'll try anything."

"Well, the Lethe river runs through the spirit realm, doesn't it?" she began, and Raphael finally realized with dread where she was going with this. "Talk to Azrael, or perhaps even Peter. Maybe one of them knows how to fix this."

_Azrael?_ Raphael suppressed a shudder. He and the death angels didn't exactly have the _best_ relationship, ever since Cain murdered Abel.

Zadkiel patted his shoulder. "Now, I really must get going. Do update me on your findings, alright?"

Raphael simply watched her leave, trying not to feel dismayed. Zadkiel's suggestion was as good a plan as any, wasn't it? _But that doesn't mean I have to like it!_

* * *

There was beauty in death, much as Raphael hated to admit it, and the section of the Death Department that oversaw newly deceased arrivals was proof of that—fields of poppies, asphodels, marigolds, and several other flowers covered the floor and walls as a stream flowed somewhere nearby, and just above the gilded Pearly Gates hung a banner that said in multiple languages, **WELCOME! YOU ARE DEAD!**

At least they were _trying_ to be comforting, something that couldn't have been easy for the largest and busiest department in either supernatural realm. It offered a decent distraction if nothing else, but Raphael was also quickly reminded how boring death must be after seeing the long line of dead souls that seemed to stretch on for miles, all waiting to be judged by Peter.

In front of him were a few weeping spirits being consoled by figures in gray cloaks. _Death angels,_ he guessed, though he wasn't sure which ones from the way their backs were turned to him.

"Please don't cry, _Señora_ Martinez," he heard one of them say to a woman near the front. "I assure you, you and your children will have a place in Heaven soon."

_Children?_ Raphael's heart sank when looked more closely and saw a little boy and a little girl clinging to their mother's skirts, and he quickly tore his gaze away. It was the children that always got to him the most.

To his dismay, the girl gasped and pointed in his direction. _"Mamá!"_

The death angel still had their hand on the woman's shoulder when they both turned their heads towards him, followed by several other angels and spirits beside them.

_Gracias, chiquitita!_ He'd been hoping to not draw too much attention while here. "Greetings, everyone," he said. "Please don't mind me. I am only here to speak with Saint Peter."

"In a minute, Raphael," said a stout angel in front of a large golden podium. "You don't mind waiting, do you?"

Raphael reluctantly shook his head. Though he hated the very concept of it, he also knew how important managing the dead was. _Besides,_ he thought, _how long could this possibly take?_

Most of them returned to their own private conversations, but the woman's children still looked at him curiously. Soon, the little girl slipped past her mother and the death angel, and ran up to Raphael as fast as her little legs could carry her.

"Celeste!" _Señora_ Martinez called.

"It's alright, _Señora_ ," said the angel tending to her as they ushered the boy to join his sister. "Your children will be safe in _San_ Rafael's care." They looked at him with pleading eyes. "You don't mind, do you?"

_Do I look like a babysitter to you?_ "Of course not," he said. "We'll be right here until it's your turn to be judged, _Señora_ Martinez."

Perhaps it was because of who he was, but the woman quickly relaxed and turned back to the angel beside her.

"Are you _really_ _San_ Rafael?" asked Celeste after they all sat down among the flowers. "You look nothing like your picture."

Raphael chuckled. "Yes, it's me. And the images you may have seen may not have been exactly... accurate, let's just say." It hardly ever was for any of the saints or angels, with Michaelangelo in particular somehow having earned the ire of almost every single angel in Heaven for his Sistine Chapel masterpiece.

Celeste seemed confused for a moment, but then she simply shrugged instead of asking another question. "I'm Celeste, by the way, but you knew that already." Then hugged her brother and added, "And this is my little brother, Marco! Say hi, _hermanito_!"

Marco mumbled something that was probably meant to be a greeting.

"Don't be rude, Marcito!" Celeste scolded, standing while she put her hands on her hips. The sight was as amusing as it was adorable.

"It's alright, Celeste," Raphael said gently. He was used to the shy ones. "It's nice to meet you, Marco." He was almost tempted to ask the children how old they both were, but the thought was gone as quickly as it had come.

"Hm." Marco's gaze dropped to the flowers beneath them, and he held a marigold in his hands.

"Do you like flowers, _chiquito_?"

Marco nodded.

"Me too! Me too!" Celeste proclaimed before scooping up a handful of them in her arms.

Raphael laughed. "Yes, I can see that, _cielita_. Do you know which ones we are sitting under?"

"Um..." She shut up eyes tightly, and for a moment, Raphael was worried if she'd suffered a bit of memory loss after dying, as was common among newly deceased children. But then she reopened them and exclaimed happily, "Oh, I know! Cempasúchil!"

Raphael smiled. _Thank God._ "Very good!"

Celeste sat back down and let the flowers fall, her expression a bit more somber now. "We use them for _Día de Muertos_ ," she said quietly. "I hope Papá won't be too upset to put up the _ofrenda_ this year."

It felt like a knife had pierced his chest. _This_ was why he hated coming here. "I'm sure he won't, _angelita_." Unlike their mother, these two children had already accepted their deaths, which was perhaps most unsettling of all. "And in the meantime, you can watch over him and the rest of your _familia_ from Heaven." _It isn't fair that they have to wait!_ Children were innocent.

"I know," said Celeste. "But it won't be the same, will it? We'll miss everything about Auckland, actually. Won't we, Marco?"

_A-Auckland?_ Raphael stared at the children. "You two are from New Zealand?"

They nodded. "Though Mamá was from Mexíco," added the little girl.

"C-Celeste, when exactly did you... erm..."

"Die?"

"Yes, that." The sooner he got out of here, the better.

Celeste opened her mouth, but before she could even get another word out, Marco let out a loud gasp as he stood.

"What's wrong?" Raphael asked and followed the little boy's gaze in time to see the flowers beginning to shrivel. _Oh, no!_ Though he doubted it would hurt them, he still quickly scooped up the children in his arms. It was better to be safe than sorry.

"What's happening?" Marco asked, burying his face into Raphael's shoulder.

"It's okay, _tesoro_ ," Raphael said softly. "This is nothing." _Hopefully._

Unfortunately, the other spirits soon took notice of the change as well, and at once, there was frightened murmuring.

"Remain calm, everyone!" Peter said. "This is just... um..." He looked at Raphael for help.

_I'm just as confused as you are!_ And yes, what was happening was indeed strange, but surely nothing to worry about? It wasn't like it was a demon attack or anything.

"Hello, brother!"

Raphael winced at the sing-song. _Oh, smite me!_ If not for the children, he would've summoned his sword immediately. The death angels wouldn't do anything to intervene, but Peter probably had a weapon somewhere at least.

Satan hugged him from behind before Raphael could turn around, nearly knocking him and the children down in the process. "Oh, how _wonderful_ it is to see you again! It's been, what, a month? Two?"

"Not long enough, clearly," Raphael muttered.

"Oh, and you have children! How delightful!"

Raphael took several steps back when Satan finally let him go. "Just do what you came here for and get out of here!" he growled.

The Devil let out a dramatic sigh. "You're an even bigger stick-in-the-mud than Michael is, you know that? But fine." He sauntered over to Peter, his voice too quiet for Raphael to hear.

"Who is that?" Celeste asked softly. For the first time, she seemed afraid.

"No one you need to worry about, _conejita_." Raphael kissed both their heads, and at once, their eyes started to droop. _Sleep well, little ones._ He began to walk towards their mother, when Satan started to shout.

"What do you _mean_ I have to wait?" he growled. "Do you even know _who I am_?"

"Someone who doesn't deserve special treatment, that's for sure," Peter said dryly, earning scattered laughter among the angels and spirits. "You're making a scene. I will tend to you once I'm done with this batch of souls. Can you come back in, oh, a year?"

"A _year_!?"

"Or two. Or never. Preferably never."

Satan's growl grew louder, but then he said in an unsettlingly sweet voice, "Look, Pete—can I call you Pete?

"Absolutely n—"

"Great! So, Pete, it's not even _you_ that I want to speak to, it's _Azrael_! So, if you could be a dear and inform him of my arrival, sunshine, that would be—"

But Peter stood his ground. _"Back of the line!"_ he snapped. No wonder he was the Lord's rock.

Another dramatic sigh. "Oh, very well. If you insist." But as he turned away from the podium, Satan slowly began to smirk. "I suppose it's simply too much to ask that _I_ — _Satan_ , the _most evil being in the universe_ —get some service around here!"

_What is he doing?_

Raphael soon got his answer when several gasps came from the crowd, which then turned into screams, which then turned to a stampede of frightened spirits running away from the Devil himself, leaving behind a flurry of flowers in their terror.

"Run for your lives!"

"He's going to kill us all!"

One death angel spread their wings and shouted from high above, "Come back! All of you are already dead!"

"He _literally_ can't do anything to hurt you!" said another.

But their words fell on deaf ears, and soon enough, the spirits were being pursued by some very irritated immortals. Once the flowers cleared, Raphael saw that there was significantly more space between the now restrained _Señora_ Martinez and whoever was behind her now. It wasn't all of them, of course, but still a good chunk that had fled.

"So!" Satan turned back to a shocked Peter as though he hadn't done anything wrong. "How about that meeting?"

"I hate you so much."

As Peter miracled a telephone—presumably to call Death—Raphael delivered the children back into _Señora_ Martinez's arms once the angel who'd been tending to her let her go.

_"Ay, gracias! Gracias!"_ she exclaimed.

_"De nada, señora,"_ Raphael replied. "And please don't worry about... _him_. He just has a flair for the dramatics."

The other angel huffed. "He should've become an actor in that case! Would make all our lives easier, if you ask me."

Raphael silently agreed. "I see what you mean, er..." _I really need to stop doing this._

"Lailah."

"Lai—" He paused. _Lailah?_ It _couldn't_ be! Although, with a closer look, maybe it could—same face, same eyes, same night-black hair. Plenty of angels liked to change their appearances every now and then, but nothing about this one had changed in the centuries since he saw her last. And yet, she didn't seem to have any reaction towards him at all, either. _I know I haven't seen her in awhile, but really!_ She'd betrayed them in the worst way possible, and now here she was, consoling an anxious mother.

"Raphael?" Lailah seemed concerned now. "Are you alright?"

_If by 'alright', you mean shocked and angry and hurt to see you again! You betrayed us all the moment you plotted to kill the Almighty's Son, you should be—_ "Yes, I'm perfectly fine!" This wasn't the time to think about the past. "I'm just surprised to see you again, is all! How have you been, by the way? You know, since, erm..."

But Lailah simply raised a confused eyebrow. "Um, fine... But Raphael, this... this is my first time meeting you. An honor, by the way!"

_What?_ He stared at her and tried to analyze her eyes, her face, anything that could indicate that she was lying. Because even that would be much preferable than the alternative. But there was no twitch, no movement at all. So, three options: either Lailah was a far better actor than he'd ever given her credit for, this was a completely different angel from the one who'd indirectly slaughtered five hundred angels and a dozen children back in Bethlehem so very long ago, or she too was somehow suffering from memory loss.

"So, what exactly are you doing here, little brother?"

Raphael nearly jumped at the sound of Satan's voice. "Funny, I could ask you the same question," he retorted when facing him. "Come to collect?"

Satan rolled his eyes. "Oh, ha ha. See, this is why we don't spend any time together!"

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Oh, but _it is_!" He wrapped an arm around Raphael and led him away from Lailah and the spirits. Then any attempt at playing up niceties was quickly dropped. "Seriously, _what_ are you doing here?" he asked in a low growl. "I thought you hated coming here."

"My business is my business, Satan," Raphael said curtly. If the demon king _was_ responsible for his own wife's amnesia, then he most certainly couldn't know about her at all. "And isn't snooping around exactly what got you to where you are now in the first place?"

Satan's eyes began to glow red, until Peter called him as a black door materialized near the podium. "Morningstar! Go on in."

"Yes, thank you, Peter." He flashed one last grin at Raphael and patted his cheek before going through the door.

_Bastard!_ But Raphael had learned long ago that arguing with his brother wasn't worth it. Turning back to the spirits, he saw that it was finally _Señora_ Martinez's turn to be judged.

"Name?"

"Gloria Esperanza Martinez Fuentes." The woman sounded more anxious than excited.

It'd only taken Peter a few seconds to address her again after flipping through his book. "Looks like you and your children are all set, _Señora_! Please enjoy your time in Heaven."

Raphael approached her as the gates began to open. "And please give these to your children when they awaken." In his hand were two flower crowns made of marigold.

She looked at him gratefully as Raphael placed them around her arm. "I will. _Gracias_." And then she entered the Pearly Gates without looking back.

Afterwards, Peter closed his book while frowning. "Well, looks like I'm done for the day," he grumbled. "Lailah, go help your co-workers bring back the dead. And what was it that you wanted to speak to me about, Raphael?"

Raphael watched Lailah leave and almost wanted to go after her, but shook the suspicion away. Regardless if she retained her memories or not, she was no longer a threat. Turning to Peter, he asked, "Has a demon come to retrieve water from the River Lethe recently? Say, in the past eleven years?"

Peter blinked twice before answering. "Erm, no, I don't believe so. Why?"

_I was afraid you'd say that._ "Well, you see—" He stopped himself when he saw the door open again.

"Well, _that_ was a waste." Satan appeared calm, but the only indication that he was fuming were the literal smoke fumes coming off of him. "Thank you anyway, Peter. I shall trouble you no longer."

"Thank God," Peter muttered.

"And Raphael, do send Gabriel my regards."

_Gabriel?_ "What does Gabriel have to do with anything?" Raphael asked, his voice coming off as more demanding than intended.

Satan looked over his shoulder and gasped. "Oh, my! You mean you don't _know_?"

"Know what?" Raphael felt the urge to fight him then and there, but clenched his fist to stop himself from doing so. _A fight is exactly what he wants._

And then Satan smirked again. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

Raphael didn't bother following _him_ , either; clearly the demon was just trying to get a rise out of him. Facing Peter again, he said, "So, are you _absolutely sure_ that—"

Peter shook his head. "I really have no idea what you're talking about, Raphael. If a demon _did_ come to take some of the water, I assure you, I would've done my best to stop them and then inform the rest of you about it." Glancing at the door, he asked, "Why don't you talk to Death? I'm sure _he_ knows something."

Raphael followed the saint's gaze and felt a shiver run down his spine almost instantly. "Th-that's fine," he said, hating himself for stammering. "I'll just talk to him later." _Besides,_ he added silently, _if Peter doesn't know anything, why would Death?_ "But thanks anyway."

* * *

Christine—or Jane, as Michael preferred to call her still—had woken up by the time Raphael returned, and she greeted him cheerfully. "Pleased to meet you," she said while shaking his hand. Yet the more he continued to look at her face, the more he noticed the suspicion in her eyes.

_What did you tell her, Michael?_ "The pleasure is all mine, dear," he said. "My sister has already told you where we'll be going, yes? All packed?"

She nodded, though the wariness never left her.

"Never mind her," he heard Michael whisper from behind. "She just has an active imagination."

Raphael frowned. _Well, that won't do at all._ He encouraged imagination, but not if it led to her having trust issues. _And who knows how busy I'll be with managing my duties to Heaven?_ Besides, she was still a homeless woman with amnesia. Who would believe her? And they were already upstairs, where there was more room, so why not? "Good. But... uh... before we go, there's something you should know."

"Raph, what are you doing?"

Raphael ignored Michael's question. "Now, I'm sure you have a million questions about me and my sister and our friends, and I believe all of them can be answered with two things."

Michael must've realized what he was going to do, because she began tugging him by the arm. She laughed nervously and said, "On second thought, I think it's time for you to _go_!"

Raphael yanked his arm away and turned back to the other woman, whose eyes had grown wide with curiosity, "I can tell you suspect something, and you're right that not everything is as it appears to be. Which is why I'm telling you now, mortal—" he felt his white wings spread and heard Michael swear under her breath—"that I am the Archangel Raphael, chief angel of healing, among several other things. Pleased to make your acquaintance." _Again._

Jane's mouth was agape, and Raphael waited for the usual screaming, the bowing, the groveling. There were many reasons why they rarely ever revealed themselves to humans anymore, and the potential terror was one of them. But Jane mostly stayed as she was, save for making an occasional squeak.

"Nice going!" Michael hissed, and she was glaring at her brother by the time Raphael turned his head towards her. Sarcasm aside, he was inclined to agree—compared to those before her, Jane was taking this revelation quiet well.

Or so he'd thought, because no sooner did he think this was there a soft thud.


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another early chapter for today, next chapter will be next week.

If there was one thing Raziel had in common with Aziraphale, it was that he didn't consider those within his rank to be family. And after seeing Michael and Raphael go at it a few times, perhaps that was a good thing.

"Are you _sure_ about not intervening?" Aziraphale asked while leaning against the banister. He seemed to be looking in the direction of one of the windows to see the older beings arguing. Raziel almost found himself pitying those who passed them by.

"Trust me, it ain't worth it," said the archangel. Looking at Jane, he added, "Besides, even _you_ gotta admit that what Raph did was pretty stupid." Long gone were the days where humans seeing the supernatural so explicitly was a common occurrence, something the seraph had apparently forgotten about. _Speaking of..._ "Hey, has Michael been forgettin' things often?"

"Hm?" Aziraphale finally looked at Raziel before continuing. "Oh, I suppose, but which of us hasn't?"

"Not exactly what I meant." The archangel stood from his place beside Jane's bed and went over to Aziraphale. Following his gaze, he added, "I mean, it's not like her to forget important tasks." Michael hadn't been their leader _just_ because she was eldest and defeated Lucifer. "You sure you never noticed anythin' off?"

Aziraphale opened his mouth, but after a second, closed it again as his brow creased. "Well, now that you mention it, I suppose she _was_ acting rather nervous after she forgot I'd worked under Raphael at one point. She claimed to be teasing, but I didn't believe her."

"And you're only bringing this up now?" Raziel asked in disbelief. "How long ago was this?"

"Erm..." Aziraphale looked away from him again. "Last month, I believe?"

"Last _month_?"

"T-the day after Gabriel came over, to be specific."

Raziel gripped onto the banister with both hands. "Again, and you're _just_ bringing this up _now_?"

"In my defense, I didn't think it was all too important. I mean, I was concerned, yes, but—"

"Not _important_?" _Why did I ever think it was a good idea to rebel?_ "You should've brought this to my attention immediately!"

Aziraphale was looking downward now. "I... yes, I suppose I should've. It was a poor choice on my part to remain silent on the matter and I apologize for that."

Raziel's only reply was a grunt. Aziraphale was so much like Cerviel—sweet and well-intentioned, and he couldn't stay mad at either of them for very long even if he wanted to. "Well, I know this now and that's what matters. Now we just need to figure out how to fix this."

Aziraphale glanced back at Jane. "You don't suppose she could've succumbed to the same substance that currently plagues Miss Smith, do you? I know Michael said Nithael turned her mortal with Hellfire, but..."

"Hm." Raziel tapped on the banister. "I think ya may be onto somethin' here." It seemed to be a good of an explanation as any, at least. "I'll ask Nithael the next time she visits." _And then try not to attack her._ Being a scribe hadn't been nearly this frustrating.

Aziraphale simply nodded, almost absentmindedly. Going against orders, his survival, the sword, even Michael's condition... What else could he possibly be hiding? The thought peaked Raziel's interest, but before he could even speak again, groaning sounded from behind them.

Aziraphale's face lit up in an instant and he went over to the human as she began to stir and grip onto the bedsheets. "It's alright, Miss Smith," he said as he kneeled beside her. "You're safe."

They were soon joined by Raziel, who gently grabbed Jane's hand as the woman began to still. "She must be rememberin' somethin'," he said before closing his eyes. Soon enough, the archangel felt warmth wash over his body as thick mist began to obscure his vision upon entering the woman's mind. _Please. Please let me know your secrets._ But no matter how much he silently begged for Jane's mind to obey him, the thick, blue-gray shroud wouldn't clear.

"Nothing?" Aziraphale asked.

Raziel shook his head as he let go of Jane's hand after reopening his eyes. "I guess I can try lookin' into her profile again." But tracking down which branch of Satanism she belonged to had been much harder than he'd thought it'd be.

Aziraphale frowned and looked at Jane with pity. "I still think we should at least inform her family of her whereabouts. We already know where they are, so—"

"And then what?" Raziel asked. "'Hi there, we've found your daughter who's apparently been missing for at least eleven years and, by the way, she has amnesia after she drank from a river that shouldn't even exist?' I suppose we should mention that we're angels as well? Or would you prefer to lie?"

Aziraphale started getting huffy again. "Well, there's no need to be snarky about it! What do _you_ suggest, then?"

"We wait for her to get better on her own."

"I meant _besides_ that."

Raziel shrugged. "Then I'm out of ideas. Look, Aziraphale, Raphael is a brilliant healer. Why can't you just have a little faith in him when it comes to this?"

"It's not that I don't trust him to help her," he insisted. "But she's been away from her family for so long already—"

"And she'll be reunited with them soon." Of course, being angels, 'soon' could mean anywhere from a few minutes to a few years, but Raziel didn't think it was best to dwell on these sort of things for too long. "Besides," he added when his eyes were on Jane again, "you've gotta admit... she _could_ prove to be useful. Once she regains her memories, of course." Aziraphale—well, Crowley _disguised_ as Aziraphale, at least—was wrong if he thought the rivalry between Heaven and Hell could be resolved with something like a chess match. _Which reminds me..._ "By the way, I've been meanin' to have a talk with ya 'bout the other day."

"Er... th-the other day?" Aziraphale laughed nervously. "My dear boy, I'm afraid I've no idea what you mean."

 _Aren't I older than you?_ "Of course you don't." Somehow, the archangel managed a gentle smile. "I just hope you know you can always trust me."

It was hard to tell what Aziraphale was thinking. "I will keep that in mind, Raziel." Standing, he added, "Now, I really should go find that sword now!"

"Clean."

The principality turned his head just as he started to walk away. "Pardon?"

Raziel raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "You mean you're gonna _clean_ your sword, right? That's the reason you gave for not handin' it over to me right away, wasn't it?" _Never mind that it's been two hours since then._ Just how long did it take to polish a celestial weapon anyway?

Aziraphale's face brightened. "Y-yes! Th-that's precisely what I meant! Now, uh, please excuse me while I go do... _that_." He practically scurried down the stairs afterwards, and Raziel was beginning to wonder if all principalities were terrible liars.

He already wasn't looking forward to constantly reminding Aziraphale of his task.

"How is she?" came Raphael's voice as the seraph climbed up the stairs.

"Still unconscious," Raziel said sadly. "She was movin' around for a bit just now, though." Part of him wanted to reprimand Raphael for revealing his identity too soon, but he held his tongue. Michael had practically already done it for him anyway.

"Hm." Raphael frowned and kneeled in front of the woman beside Raziel. "I suppose I should've at least waited to reveal myself first."

 _Ya think?_ "You simply did what you thought was best, sir."

Raphael chuckled softly and placed a hand over Raziel's own. "You know you don't need to address me so formerly, right? Just 'Raphael' is fine."

Heat suddenly rushed to Raziel's cheek. "Right, of course, s— _Raphael_! I mean Raphael!" With a clear of his throat, he added, "It's just that... Well, since Haniel recanted and all, I just assumed... And you didn't exactly stop me until now, and..." He groaned and buried his face in his hands. Since when was he this flustered? _Lord, you can smite me now._ "I'm sorry." For what, he wasn't entirely sure.

Raphael laughed again, and Raziel felt the Archangel squeeze his shoulder. "It's fine, darling. Just know you can just be yourself around me. Don't see why you're so nervous, though. I'm not like my siblings, and it's not like we haven't worked together before."

_Barely._ The closest Raziel could think of was when Raphael had secretly tasked him to watch over Cain's bloodline after the human had been exiled for killing Abel. And while Raphael was indeed one of nicer seraphim, Raziel knew the older angel was giving himself far too much credit.

"I take it she isn't awake yet?" Michael asked as she came upstairs with a glass of water. Not waiting for an answer, she added, "You really need to be more careful, Raphael. You know I expect better from you."

Raphael looked like he really wanted to argue with her again, but apparently thought better of it. "I'll keep that in mind, sister," he said tersely. "Anyway, just put the glass on the nightstand. I'm sure she'll be thirsty later."

Michael glanced at the drink in her hands. "Oh, this isn't for drinking."

"Wait, what d'ya—" Raziel's question was cut short when his charge splashed the water onto the woman's face. "Hey!" He glared at Michael when some of the cool liquid got onto his suit before he and Raphael could step away from the bed. "Warn an angel, will ya?"

There wasn't even a shred of sympathy on Michael's face as the mortal coughed and sat up from her bed. "Wha...?"

"Oh, good, awake at last," Michael said as she placed the empty glass on the nightstand. "Sorry about that," she added without sounding sorry at all. "But we needed to wake you up somehow."

Jane only responded with a nod, though she seemed to be only barely listening as she rubbed her head. "It's fine, Miss—" The woman gasped when her eyes landed on Raphael. "I-I saw you with wings."

"Oh, Jane..."

"I know what I saw, Michelle!"

"You're confused, dearie."

"I'm not!" Jane shook her head vehemently and flinched when Michael tried to touch her. "I'm not confused. I know what I saw."

It would've been frightening to see Michael attempt to gaslight the girl if Raziel hadn't already been so used to seeing the oldest angel use similar tactics in the past.

"That's enough, Michael!" Raphael snapped.

"Michael?" Jane echoed.

Raphael ignored her, his focus still on his sister and Raziel. "Why don't you two leave us be?" he asked. "Don't worry, I'll take care of everything."

Raziel nodded while Michael seemed more reluctant, but followed the archangel downstairs anyway.

* * *

"I really don't understand you, Michael," said Aziraphale after he'd been told of Jane regaining consciousness. "You practically begged me to let her stay—"

"Excuse me, I _begged_?"

"—and now you seem to think of the girl as a mere nuisance after only a few days of living here."

"She was beginning to ask _questions_ , Aziraphale!"

"That doesn't mean you get to be unkind."

"Are you sure you don't just want someone to order around?" Raziel asked when Aziraphale left the back room, only half joking. "And anyway, he's got a point."

"I know."

"And another thing—wait, what?"

Michael sighed as she took a seat on the sofa. "I said I know. And I'm really trying here, Raziel. How's your arm, by the way?"

Raziel wasn't entirely sure what to feel, but it certainly wasn't gratefulness, that was for sure. "Fine," he said curtly. "No thanks to you."

She winced, as though remembering her cruelty. "I meant what I said when I apologized. And I'll say it again, I'm sorry I hurt you. It won't happen again, I promise."

Raziel held his hands tightly behind his back, and it was al he could do to stop himself from laughing at her. "Okay," he said. "I don't forgive you."

The surprised look on her face was almost comical. "But I apologized twice already."

"And?"

"You accepted my apology the first time!"

Raziel shook his head. "No, I _thanked_ you for the apology. That doesn't necessarily mean I actually forgive you. It doesn't mean anythin' to me if you don't _show_ me you're regretful first." He paused for a second, and then said as he sat beside her, "But acknowledging your mistakes is a good first step." Now if only they could get to that _second_ step and actually get something done.

"I understand," she said, and he was surprised she'd said it so softly. "In fact, I was just thinking earlier about speaking to the other leaders, Haniel especially. Do you think you'll be able to organize it? I was thinking Christmastime, but sooner is fine, too."

 _Right, because I'm popular in Heaven._ "I can try," he said at last. "But no promises."

She nodded in what appeared to be a rare moment of genuine gratitude. "Thank you. That's all I ask."


	55. Chapter 55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, new display name wasn't working for me, so I'm back to my old one, at least for now. Anyway, enjoy this week's chapter.

Usually Gabriel would've found enjoyment in watching _The Sound of Music_ —film or otherwise—such as humming along to the songs or commenting on certain scenes, but not even Julie Andrews was enough to soothe him. And unfortunately for the Archangel, Uriel noticed.

"What is going on with you today?" she asked after pausing the film. "You've been quiet since we started."

"And that's a bad thing?" Gabriel asked, hoping his feigned confusion was convincing. "I thought being silent was all part of the movie-viewing experience.

"You know what I mean, Gabriel!"

_I really wish I didn't._ And knowing Uriel, she wasn't likely to drop the conversation until he gave her some sort of explanation first. Telling her the truth was the most logical option of course, but where to start was the hard part. _So much_ _for_ _just spending the rest of the day together._ Still, was it really wise to cause his sister even more grief when she'd only just gotten back from tending to what were no doubt ungrateful humans?

"Gabriel?" For someone who didn't like to show her emotions often, there was just a hint of concern on Uriel's face.

"I'm fine, Uriel," Gabriel insisted. "Really. Just thinking about work, is all."

She appeared skeptical, and he waited for her to press further, but the questions never came. Rather, she clapped her hands on her knees and pushed herself to stand before saying, "Well, if work is what you're concerned with, we can carry on with the film later." The image on the screen disappeared before Gabriel could protest. "That's more important, right?"

"Right..." They never cut their musical time short, but it was certainly preferable to getting bombarded with questions he wasn't ready to give answers to yet.

They left the closest thing Heaven had to a theater side-by-side, and Gabriel had hoped they'd be able to get back to their respective offices in complete and utter silence, which was the case for a few minutes, until Uriel broke it. "What are you hiding from me?" she asked.

Gabriel stopped in his tracks. "Whatever gave you that impression?" he replied without looking at her.

"Because you've been evading my questions since I got here." She stepped in front of him, eyes narrowed. "I taught you that tactic, remember? I know when you're lying. And you're not even doing a good job at it, if I'm being perfectly honest right now."

"Well, in that case," Gabriel said with a grin, "why don't we work on it? Oh, in fact, we have a new training schedule now, so maybe we could—"

"Gabriel."

"Everyone is fine, Uriel!" he insisted. "Michael's fine, Raphael's fine, God's fine."

"I never asked about God."

"Well, I'm telling you anyway." Was it just him, or did the temperature in Heaven suddenly get warmer? "Look, Uri, you have absolutely nothing to worry about!"

Uriel crossed her arms and looked her brother up-and-down. "I'm not the one who's acting strange, little brother." Brushing her hand against his arm, she asked, "You know you can trust me, right?" She almost sounded desperate. If there was anything Uriel valued more than anything else in the universe, it was trust.

_And here I am, practically trying to break it._ And he'd always planned on telling her the truth anyway, hadn't he? "It's not that I don't trust you, Uriel," he said, "I just don't want to upset you today."

"Something you're already doing by keeping secrets from me," she pointed out, more disappointed than angry. "I'm not a youngling anymore, Gabriel. And I'm older than you, besides. You don't need to protect me."

Gabriel heaved a sigh. "I know, I know. You're right. And I promise to tell you everything, but..." Why was this so hard? "Okay, so... I have bad news, even more bad news, and worse news. Which do you want to hear first?"

Uriel stood perfectly still, save for the occasional blinking. "N-no good news?" she asked at last in a quiet voice.

Gabriel shook his head. "Sorry. I really wish there was, though."

The light angel remained silent for what seemed like an eternity as she continued to stare at him with her mouth slightly open, though no words ever came. And though Gabriel wasn't a mind reader, he'd guessed she was silently berating him for trying to spare her of any negativity, and he could've sworn he saw tiny electrical sparks dancing on her fingertips just as he was about to grab her hand.

She was angry, even if she didn't look like it.

"Uriel." Gabriel took a hesitant step forward. "Please say something."

She shook her head before placing her hand on it, as though she were getting a migraine. "What exactly do you want me to say, Gabriel?" she asked. "Just tell me what's going on. Now!"

 _Bad news first, then._ "Okay, so—"

"Uriel, there you are."

The two Archangels turned to see Raguel approaching them, and Gabriel didn't think he'd even felt more grateful to see a principality than he was now. _So, maybe they're not_ all _bad,_ he thought. Perhaps this was a sign for him to keep the secrets for a little longer. "Hello, Raguel," he said. "What is it?"

"We're sort of in the middle of something here," Uriel said with barely disguised irritation. "And if this is about my progress, Hakamiah should've already sent the report to your office."

The principality shook her head. "It's not about that at all. I just wanted to see how you were doing. Oh, my condolences, by the way. Michael didn't deserve any of this."

"Michael?" Uriel looked from Gabriel to Raguel and back again. "Gabriel, what is she talking about? Does this have to do with what Haniel had been panicking about last month?"

 _Never mind, all principalities really_ are _terrible._ "Right, well, see—"

"You don't know yet?" Raguel's gray eyes rounded.

"Know _what_?" A growl rumbled in Uriel's throat.

Raguel frowned and shook her head again. "No, no. I've said too much already. I'm sure Gabriel can fill you in on the rest. Please don't be too furious with him, though. It's not his fault Michael was turned human."

 _"Human!?"_ Uriel's eyes briefly flashed gold when she looked at Gabriel before returning to their usual color. "Explain to me, Gabriel, why was I not informed of this sooner?"

Gabriel took a step back with a nervous laugh. "Er, well, you see..." He trailed off when he caught sight of Raguel smirking, as though to say, 'I'm going to make your life a living Hell.' "You!" He jabbed a finger into the principality's chest. "This is all _your_ fault! If you hadn't—"

Uriel stepped in between them. "I don't believe it to be wise to blame Raguel for _your_ silence, brother. Not everything is the fault of principalities."

"Uriel, you don't understand."

"I understand that you've been hiding something very important from me." Seeing the hurt in her eyes almost made him feel guilty. "Now if you'll both excuse me, I'm going to go find Raphael. Perhaps _he'll_ be more honest with me."

Gabriel winced and watched her leave before turned back to Raguel with gritted teeth. "I was going to tell her!" he snapped.

Raguel's smirk never left her face. "Oh, I'm sure you were. Like how you told Mary about the Son's death, right?"

Gabriel stiffened at the mention of his former charge. "Don't you dare say her name!" he growled, surprising himself with how defensive he was feeling. "You have no right to say her name! It's your fault she hates me!"

"Really?" Raguel seemed genuinely surprised by the accusation. "Was I the one who lied to her? Summoned her? No. That was you and Raphael respectively. Nor was I the one who made her cry after thorough interrogation. That was Haniel. You can be mad at me for other things, Gabriel, but not that."

Gabriel grabbed hold of Raguel's shoulder just as she began to walk away. He wasn't done with her yet. "Why do you hate me?" The words were out before he could think it over. "Why do _all_ of you principalities hate me? And you're a _judge_ , for God's sake! You're supposed to remain impartial."

Raguel rolled her eyes and pushed him away. "And you'd like that, wouldn't you?" she asked. "Listen here, Gabriel, because I'm only going to say this _once_ : I don't hate you."

"Well, could've fooled me."

Raguel shrugged. "Believe what you want, messenger, but it's not my fault you've been such a poor leader these past few centuries. Remember, it's my job to deal with misbehaving angels. And I'm an older sister. I don't particularly care for the angels who kidnapped Aziraphale, but it's also still my job to protect my siblings from bullies like you and Michael."

 _Bullies?_ "Raguel, I—"

"My brothers may be too cowardly to do anything about you," she continued bitterly, "but _I'm_ not. So either do away with this arrogance of yours, or else."

Despite everything, he still wasn't used to seeing someone so low in the celestial hierarchy trying to intimidate him. "Whatever you say, Raguel," he said as he began to walk away from her. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go catch up with Uriel." He hoped she wouldn't be _too_ angry by the time he did.

* * *

"I said I was sorry!"

"And _I_ don't want to hear it!"

Despite her protests, Gabriel continued to trail close behind his sister, pretending not the notice the attention he was attracting. "Uriel, come on! Can't we talk about this?"

Uriel finally stopped walking, nearly causing Gabriel to bump into her. Whirling on him, she asked angrily, "What is there to talk about, Gabriel? The fact that you tried to keep secrets from me? Or the fact that I wasn't told about Michael much sooner?"

"Er, well—"

"And just how long ago was this?"

"About a month ago," said an angel who most certainly wasn't Gabriel.

Uriel looked surprised. "Y-you all knew?" she stammered as more of their co-workers surrounded them, pity visible in several sets of eyes. "And not a single one of you has done anything about it yet?"

"It was a demon curse, Uriel," said the angel who'd previously spoken, not a single hint of sympathy in sight. "There isn't really much we can do _except_ wait it out."

"Not that we miss her, though," said another. "But at least she was better than Gabriel."

 _Don't talk about me like I'm not here!_ "Okay, okay, that's enough!" Gabriel started to shoo the other angels away as they began to murmur amongst themselves. "Get back to work, all of you!"

He was rewarded with glares, the crowd clearly ready to protest until another spoke up. "Mind him, everyone. Remember how much havoc the enemy has been causing lately."

"Yes, Raphael," came the monotonous replies as the crowd parted to let the healer pass. They bowed their heads as he walked up to Uriel, but there was something about this sign of respect that didn't seem sincere in the slightest. Gabriel didn't have time to question it further however, as the other angels started to walk away afterwards.

"I had it under control, Raphael," Gabriel said while the healer greeted Uriel with a hug. Why did his brother always have to interfere with his business?

Raphael only seemed amused. "What a strange way of saying 'thank you'," was his reply after letting Uriel go. "You're welcome, by the way. The others looked like they really wanted to shred you just now."

"Oh, stop teasing him, Raphael," said Uriel in an almost playful tone. As though remembering she was still supposed to be angry, her face resumed its usual sternness, and she then asked, "Anyway, care to explain why I didn't know about Michael sooner? And Gabriel, what was that you were saying about there being even more bad news and then worse news? Don't see what could possibly be worse than our sister becoming mortal, though."

"Oh, he hasn't told you about God yet, then?" Raphael asked, and then seemed to immediately regret what he'd just said.

"What _about_ God?" Uriel's voice had gotten unusually high-pitched when she asked about the Creator as worry crossed her face.

"Oh. Uh..."

 _Nice going, Raph!_ Gabriel took a step back. There was no telling how Uriel would react to being told of God abandoning them. "Maybe we should continue this conversation in private."

Raphael chuckled nervously and lightly pushed Uriel towards Gabriel. "Indeed you should!"

"You're not joining us?" Gabriel wasn't all too surprised as much as he was disappointed. _Leave it to Raphael to avoid doing any hard work._ He hoped his brother realized just how easy he had it compared to the rest of them.

Raphael shook his head sadly. "Sorry. I need to get back down to Earth before a human I'm helping wakes up." To Uriel, he added, "I just came by to say hi."

 _How awfully convenient._ "I don't recall assigning anyone to guardian duty," Gabriel said.

"It's, er, a side project."

"A _side project_?" Even Uriel didn't seem to believe him. "Do you take us for fools?"

Rather than giving an immediate response, Raphael flashed a gentle smile and grabbed each of Uriel and Gabriel's hands. "Of course I don't," he said at last. "But I promise this won't take too long. And I also promise to make time for us later so that we may finally talk about... _everything_. Okay?"

The younger Archangels exchanged skeptical glances, but they both still nodded in unison as Gabriel begrudgingly said, "Very well. But don't think this means you can get out of doing any work."

Raphael smiled and nodded. "Of course. And thank you both for understanding! I promise you won't regret this!" And then he was gone in a ray of light after giving them both a final hug.

Uriel clucked her tongue after watching him leave. "We're not being too soft on him, don't you think?"

* * *

Gabriel refused to tell Uriel anything else regarding what had happened in her absence, and as far as he could tell, this seemed to be just fine with her. Ignorance was bliss, after all. For now, it was best to just focus on repairing internal relations within Heaven and then focus on everything else later. And what better way to do that than a meeting?

"Thank you all so much for coming!" he said, clasping his hands after everyone took their seats. Among the attendees was Sandalphon, sitting beside the Metatron; he gave Gabriel a quick nod in greeting, though he looked melancholy while doing so. Gabriel decided to question him about it later. "Now, I'm sure you're all wondering why I've called you all here today."

"Is it to boast?" said Phaleg from the far end of the rectangular table. "It's to boast, isn't it? Can't even give us a day to grieve, I see." Noriel—who was apparently standing in for Raziel today—and Cerviel laughed softly beside them, and even some of the other leaders looked somewhat amused.

Gabriel bristled. "No, it's not to boast!" _As tempting as it is._ "The Son has basically assigned me to fix Heaven and—"

"Oh, well, we're all doomed, then." Noriel began to stand, followed by Phaleg. "We have more important things to do than feeding your ego, Gabriel."

Gabriel was grateful to be sitting down like the rest of them, as he felt his fingers curl into his palm. He was older than most of the angels here! He _deserved_ their respect, their complete and undivided attention. Instead, they were acting like he was incompetent, like he hadn't been leading them when Michael suddenly decided she couldn't.

"I think we should hear him out."

All eyes were on Cerviel, who seemed just as surprised by their own words as the rest of them were.

"It's just," they continued hesitantly, "I think we should give Gabriel another chance. Our hearts clearly aren't in this anymore, Aziraphale doesn't want anything to do with us at all, and what do we really have left to lose by listening to Gabriel now?"

"Our dignity?" Noriel deadpanned.

Phaleg scoffed and said to the principality, "Well, of course _you_ would side with him." But despite their grumbling, the Angel still sat back down, followed by an irritated Noriel. "But fine. Let's hear it, Gabriel."

Gabriel nodded and shot a quick glance at Cerviel, not sure whether to feel irritated at being defended by a principality or grateful. "Right. I think we should start by discussing the new training schedule first." He snapped his fingers, and copies of Raphael's paper were soon in front of them all. "Rather than each rank getting a turn to practice combat skills during training, why don't we do something similar, but in groups of three instead? So, a seraph would be paired up with a dominion and a principality, for instance."

It sounded like a good enough idea when Gabriel first went over it. "We'll be able to learn from each other better using this method," he added. "Then before the week ends, we can put everything we've learned to the test in a series of trials." This was essentially the only part left from the original training plan. Only this time, the ranks wouldn't be so isolated from each other before it was time to confront each other in mock combat.

He did his best to study the faces as the angels read through the schedule themselves, but the thing about living in fear of your own creator for six thousand years is that it gave you more than enough time to practice your acting skills.

"Well?" Gabriel prompted when they all lifted their heads from the paper and hoped that didn't sound too demanding. _Raph's going to be so disappointed if they don't like it._

Ophaniel was the first to speak. "I think it's worth a try."

Some nodded in agreement, while others appeared skeptical and even afraid.

The Metatron, someone who rarely participated in training, was one of them. "I'm not so sure we should even be _discussing_ this now. We nearly went through another civil war, Gabriel. How can you even bring this up so soon after the last one?"

Uriel flinched, but Sandalphon didn't seem too surprised at the mention of war. His own brother must've told him what had happened.

"But there _wasn't_ one," Jophiel said gently. "And besides, shouldn't that be more of a reason to try things this way? We all need to learn to work together again, that much should be obvious to us all. Why not start here?"

Gabriel tried not to smile when he saw more angels quietly agreeing. With the third sphere present, the last thing he needed was another accusation of him being arrogant. "Well, if no one else has any better ideas, we can—"

He was interrupted by the scraping of a chair and shutting of a door. Uriel had left, and Sandalphon was quick to go after her after murmuring to be excused.

Awkward silence settled around the meeting room, but it was soon broken when the Metatron asked "I-I assume she didn't know?"

Gabriel didn't reply. They'd just talk later. She couldn't stay mad at him forever, surely? "As I was saying, if no one else has any better ideas, we can..." He paused when he saw the sadness on his co-workers' faces. "We can adjourn." Standing, he added, "Take the rest of the day off, all of you. We can get started on training tomorrow."

They nodded and thanked him, and soon enough, the only ones who were left with him were Ophaniel and Jophiel.

"I think you did well," said the head cherub, Jophiel nodding in agreement. "Silly as it may sound now, I wholeheartedly believe that your training schedule is the key that'll help us all."

 _Wait, my..._ Gabriel shook his head. "Oh, no! You're both giving me way too much credit."

Ophaniel laughed. "Oh, don't be so modest! This _was_ your idea wasn't it? I didn't see Uriel coming up with anything, Raphael is off doing who-knows-what, and we all know about Michael's... predicament."

There was something about Ophaniel saying the word _predicament_ that sent a shiver down Gabriel's spine. "But—"

"Ophaniel's right, Gabriel," Jophiel said. "And if all goes well, you may just turn out to be the leader Heaven needs after all."

"Certainly better than Michael, at least," Ophaniel added in disgust. "Corresponding with demons, that one! The nerve!"

"Indeed! Let's just hope she wasn't stupid enough to tell that treacherous lover of hers our secrets."

Gabriel struggled to maintain his smile. He'd been trying very, _very_ hard to forget all about that part of Michael's life. He wished the others would, too. _She isn't a traitor,_ he wanted to say aloud. But something compelled him to keep his mouth shut.

"Well!" Ophaniel clapped Gabriel's back and grinned. "Jophiel and I better get going. We'll see you soon, hero!"

Hero.

Precisely what Mary had called him before she decided to hate him.

Well. Who was he to deny himself such praise?


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, would you look at that! It's now been over a year since this series started! Again, thank you all for sticking with me for this long. Like I've been saying, I'm working with this as I go, so I thank you all for your patience. ^^"

Technically, all angels had an affinity with light in some form, so theoretically, it shouldn't have been much of a problem to control fire. In actuality however, attempting to manipulate the most aggressive of the elements was perhaps the hardest thing Haniel had ever done.

 _Come on, come on!_ He'd meant it when he thought about using Hellfire to Heaven's advantage, but so far, he had yet to produce even a tendril a smoke since returning to his office, much less a small flame. And each time he tried, he easily became out of breath, as though his own lungs—or the closest thing angels had to lungs, at least—were being filled with smoke. This time was no different, as he felt his chest tighten so much that he weakly made a glass of water appear on his desk and quickly downed the drink before slumping into his chair.

He felt miserable, and upon seeing his face in a small desk mirror, realized he looked the part, too—his brown hair was a complete mess, while both his eyes and face were now red and swollen, likely from all the crying he'd done. He feared to look at his wings. He hadn't done so since last night.

"Where did I go wrong?" Haniel wasn't actually expecting a reply, but part of him still would've liked one anyway. For his loneliness, he knew he had no one to blame for it but himself, practically betraying his loved ones like he did. All to appease Gabriel.

* * *

_"How did this happen?"_

_"I don't know."_

_"Liar!"_

_Haniel sat up a little straighter_ _when_ _Gabriel slammed his hands on the table, fearing the seraph for perhaps the first time in his life. He held all the power now._ He's always held all the power. _Suddenly the meaning behind Gabriel's seemed fitting._ _"I'm telling you the truth, Your Glory." Perhaps addressing him formally would calm him down._

_Gabriel rolled his eyes in response. "Oh, don't you get formal with me now, traitor!" he growled. "If you really don't know, then guess! What was the last thing you did before your wings started changing?"_

_Haniel was about to speak again, until an image of a small white cube appeared in his mind. He shook his head. "I'm telling you, Gabriel, I really don't know." He'd done nothing wrong that day. Stealing from his boyfriend and wanting to manipulate things in his favor had all been for a good cause. So what else could be responsible for this?_

_Gabriel let out a frustrated groan and started to pace around. "I'm trying to help you here, Haniel." He actually sounded desperate. Facing him again, he asked,_ _"You think I_ want _you to Fall? You think I_ want _Heaven to go through all that pain again?"_

_Haniel shook his head, recalling the sorrow in Gabriel's eyes. "No." There was no questioning the seraph's intentions in this case, especially since—if the stories were true—it'd been Gabriel who'd been unfortunate enough to witness the extent of Michael's power up close when both Falls had occurred. "I know you'd never wish this curse upon anyone, Gabriel."_

_Relief shone in those violet eyes. "Good." Pulling up a chair to sit in front of the principality, he added, "Because I'm not that cruel, no matter that you may think."_

_"Of course, Gabriel." Haniel glanced down at his shackles for a quick second._

_Gabriel sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "You know I'm gonna have to at least imprison you, right? Because we both know Raphael won't do anything about this."_

_Haniel stiffened. It was obvious his partner wasn't coming back at all. "Oh, please, don't!" He hated begging, but it seemed necessary this time. "Please don't tell anyone about this! I-I don't want to cause a panic."_

_"Well, you should've thought of that before you decided to go all evil and stuff."_

_"I'm not—oh, never mind."_ One step forward, two steps back. _"This isn't even fair!_ Your _wings are still white, why aren't_ you _being punished?"_

_Gabriel's usual arrogance returned. "Maybe because I'm far too amazing and important to Fall."_

_"_ _Realistic_ _answers only, please."_

_"Anyway—" Gabriel drummed his fingers of the table—"give me one good reason why I should keep your secret? For all I know, doing so could pose a security risk."_

_"I'm not a traitor!"_

_"Maybe not, but I know you're desperate." He didn't give Haniel a chance to reply before taking out his phone, which really should've stayed confiscated. "Guards should be here in no time."_

_"Wait!" If only he wasn't shackled, otherwise Haniel would've knocked the device out of Gabriel's hand. "Is this really necessary? I haven't done anything wrong."_

_Gabriel simply looked at him with a raised eyebrow._

_"To Heaven. Er, intentionally."_

_"Hm." The seraph returned to his phone, but never spoke into it. Instead, he looked at Haniel again—more specifically, at Haniel's shackles. "I'll say this again," he said softly. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't turn you in. And I'm feeling merciful right now, so you better make your argument a good one."_

_Haniel was silent, thoughtful. The third sphere had been loyal to him when he first suggested going up against Michael and the others, but something told him that most of them wouldn't care too much if they knew he was Falling. Just like how they didn't care for him now. With good reason, perhaps._

"I grew too impulsive," _he'd told Raphael after they'd all believed Michael to be dead. And looking back, perhaps he really could've done things differently._ Alot _differently. And perhaps then, he wouldn't be Falling._

_Perhaps then, there wouldn't be the threat of another civil war constantly looming._

This isn't your fault, _said a small voice._ You weren't the one who told everyone about Michael. You weren't even the one who turned her human. All you've ever wanted was equality for the lower ranks. Why is that so bad? None of this is your fault.

_None of this was his fault. But it'd still be nice to start over._

Start over... Wait, that's it! _It was risky and the third sphere would likely resent him for the rest of eternity, but at least it'd buy him time._

_"Well, Haniel?"_

_Much as it_ _pained_ _him, Haniel made himself appear as submissive as possible, with slumped shoulders and eyes downcast. "Why don't I recant?"_

_Gabriel immediately laughed. "Right, right. And I'll just let Satan take over Heaven."_

_"I'm being serious." He bit the bottom of his lip and then continued. "I've caused so much trouble already. I want to make things right."_

_He glanced up in time to see Gabriel's skepticism slowly dissolve._

_"I made a mistake by trying to go up against you. You were only trying to do the right thing, I realize that now. I'm sorry."_

_This caused Gabriel to smile just a tiny bit. "Well, I'm glad you're finally taking responsibility for your actions. But don't think this means I forgive you."_

_"And I don't expect you to."_ You're much too prideful for that. _"But I'll do anything to make things right again."_

 _"Hmm..." Gabriel's smile_ _grew_ _wider. "Anything?"_

 _Haniel swallowed. Had this been a mistake? "Anything."_ This isn't like Nithael, _he thought._ I've already agreed to recant, so what else could he possibly do to hurt me?

_"In that case—" Gabriel placed a hand on the shackles, but didn't remove them—"I'll keep your secret on two conditions."_

_"T-two?"_

_"Take it or leave it."_

_Haniel shook his head. "I-I wasn't criticizing, I just meant... um..." He couldn't find a good excuse, so he just gave up and instead cleared his throat before asking, "W-what are these conditions?"_

_Gabriel nodded, clearly pleased. "First, if you truly mean it, I agree with you on your recantation idea. You can't take back your actions, but your words are a different matter entirely. So go ahead and take back every terrible thing you've ever said about your superiors and denounce this silly rebellion of yours once and for all."_

It wasn't a rebellion! _Haniel held back. "Of course, Gabriel," he said, the words tasting like venom on his tongue. "And the second?"_

 _For a moment, Gabriel was silent, and he averted his eyes from Haniel's face. "Well, I..." he trailed off, which had the principality concerned. Gabriel wasn't usually at a loss for words. But before Haniel could ask what was wrong, the older angel had apparently found his voice again and finally spoke._ _"I want you to break up with Raphael."_

_"What!?" Haniel stared at him. This had to be some sort of cruel joke._

_But he soon realized that Gabriel was being completely serious. "You've been a horrible influence on my brother for centuries. And he clearly wants nothing to do with you anymore anyway. What with you in your... condition."_

_Haniel growled, any attempt at showing weakness forgotten. This was ridiculous! "Raphael isn't superficial! He loves me for who I am!"_

_"Really?" Pity glistened in Gabriel's eyes. "Where is he now, then? Certainly not with you, that's for sure. And isn't_ _today_ _your anniversary?"_

_Despite his attempts to stay calm, Haniel felt himself shaking in anger. But before he could reply, Gabriel began stroking the principality's hair. "There, there," he continued. "Raphael's a good angel, make no mistake about that. But he's a seraph and you're a principality."_

_"You've never wanted us together!" Michael had said something similar a long time ago._

_"Well, you're right about that," Gabriel admitted. "Look, maybe the two of you will work out someday. But maybe today was meant to be a sign. You've been keeping secrets from him, after all. Big ones. And isn't trust supposed to be a priority in any relationship?"_

_Haniel was silent. He knew_ _Gabriel to be cruel, but_ this _? This was too much, even for him. "You'd really wish to cause your brother such pain?"_

 _Gabriel seemed surprised by the accusation. "I want you to end things to_ spare _him pain._ _The_ _last thing I want is for him to go through what Michael went through. You remember, right?"_

_Haniel nodded wordlessly. The Second Fall had been especially hard on the usually stoic commander. And if even Michael was capable of lashing out in grief, what did that say about her siblings?_

_"It's best to just distance yourself from him now. Just in case."_

Just in... _"And you'd like that, wouldn't you? For him to be dependent on you?"_

_"Oh, please!" Gabriel scoffed. "I'd want nothing less."_

Sure you do... _Perhaps Gabriel didn't even realize it himself, but after centuries of schmoozing with influential politicians, Haniel could see how easy it would be to use another's grief—or any negative emotion, really—to one's advantage. So being sent to Rome hadn't been_ all _bad._

_"Now," Gabriel continued, "I can either let the guards know of your betrayal, or you can recant and break my brother's heart and I'll look the other way. This'll all be our little secret."_

_Haniel frowned. He wanted to point out the flaw in Gabriel's logic, that perhaps breaking up would just make things worse, but he held his tongue. If he wanted things to stay secret, he'd have to cooperate. For now, at least. In order to achieve great change, sometimes one had to make sacrifices. He'd work on his own this time, and then when the time came—_

_"So?" Gabriel waved his phone in front of him. "What's it gonna be, Haniel?"_

_With great reluctance, Haniel fixed his posture and looked at Gabriel straight in the eye. "You have yourself a deal."_

* * *

Haniel shook the memory away, feeling even more frustrated with himself, especially since he still didn't have any sort of detailed plan yet. _I really need to stop doing this._ No doubt Gabriel was reveling in his victory.

"Well, you certainly look like Hell."

Or he could be in his office, mocking him.

"No thanks to you," Haniel grumbled without looking at the seraph. "Have you ever heard of something called 'privacy'?"

"Traitors don't get privacy."

"For the last time, I'm not a traitor!"

"Hm." He didn't realize how close Gabriel had gotten until the seraph touched his back, causing the principality to flinch. "I believe your wings would say otherwise." There was a pause, and then he asked more gently, "How are they, by the way?"

Haniel huffed, still not looking at him. "Like you care! Don't act like some part of you isn't happy about this."

"I already said I'm not—"

"—cruel when it comes to this, I know." Haniel waved a hand dismissively, the other on his cheek. "You're just cruel enough to want your brother miserable and another angel dead."

Gabriel growled and shoved Haniel so hard that the principality nearly fell out of his chair. "I may not want you to Fall, but I certainly won't mourn you when you finally _do_ join the rest of your kind! Just stay in line in the meantime or else. Got it?"

Haniel finally looked at the seraph and smiled weakly. It'd only been a few hours, and already his adversary was drunk on power again. "Got it."

Gabriel's face was stern. "Good. You're doing the right thing here, Haniel. I hope you know that."

_For you, maybe._

"And..." Gabriel's voice became softer. "For what it's worth, I _am_ sorry. You don't deserve this, and I promise to help out in however way I can. But the next time you feel like I'm doing something wrong, just _tell_ me, okay? That goes for the rest of your sphere."

 _What, so you can dismiss it afterwards?_ Haniel nodded. "Of course, Gabriel. Thank you." _This is only temporary,_ the principality told himself. _One way or another, you'll get your revenge soon._

Gabriel smiled and nodded in gratitude, and then he patted Haniel's shoulder, as though he hadn't just shoved him. "Excellent. In that case, I'll leave you to it. And be sure to expect paperwork later today. You've slacked off from your duties long enough."

Haniel simply nodded again as Gabriel turned to leave, but then a single thought crossed his mind. He had to know. "Gabriel, wait!" he said rapidly. "H-how is Raphael taking it?"

Gabriel stopped as he neared the door, back still turned to him. "My brother is perfectly content." And then he left, and Haniel suddenly felt a warm sensation in his hand as he clenched his fist. He knew the seraph was lying, but that didn't make him any less furious.

_Patience is a virtue._

"Patience is a virtue." Haniel took a deep breath and the warmness soon subsided. He'd waited this long to rise up, he could wait a bit longer. And this time, he wouldn't tell Cerviel anything.

A knock sounded on the door then, interrupting his thoughts.

"Who is it?" he asked reluctantly. He really needed to remember to put up a protective and soundproof barrier soon.

"It's Raguel and Cerviel!" said his sister from the other side of the door. "Please open up, Haniel. And don't act like you're not taking visitors either, we literally saw Gabriel walk out of your office just now."

 _Only because he came in unannounced!_ "...Is it just you two?" The last thing he needed was to be welcomed by a horde of angry former revolutionaries.

"Yes!" That was Cerviel, an angel who couldn't lie to save their life.

 _Thank God._ "Come in, then!"

The knob turned and Haniel stood as his siblings came in, and was surprised when they recoiled upon seeing him. _Oh, my hair. Right._

"Good God, man!" Raguel said while Cerviel ran up to him. "What's happened to you?"

He didn't have time to respond before Cerviel sat him down in front of the larger mirror he had yet to miracle away. "Just because you're upset doesn't mean you get to look unpresentable," they said as they began combing his hair. "Although, now I understand why you didn't want to come out."

Haniel glanced up at his sibling. "Cerviel, if I wanted to be criticized, I'd had just let Gabriel stay."

In response, Cerviel lightly whacked him. "I have a comb and I'm not afraid to use it." Beneath the attempt at sternness lay affection. "Now look straight ahead while I fix your hair."

Haniel quietly obeyed, feeling more serene than he had in weeks. Cerviel always knew how to make him feel better.

"I for one don't see what you have to be upset about. This _is_ all your fault, after all."

Raguel however, not so much.

Haniel sighed. "Blunt as ever, little sister." Not that he blamed her, though. She had every right to be angry with him. "And here I thought you wanted nothing to do with me."

"Hmph!" Thanks to the mirror, Haniel could see she was crossing her arms. "I'm still deciding." Despite this, he thought he saw her smile. "We're worried for you," she continued before going over to kneel beside him. Holding his hand, she added, "Won't you please tell us why you recanted?"

Haniel hesitated and squeezed Raguel's hand. "I'm afraid I can't say. Not yet, any—ow!" He winced when he felt a hard tug on his head. "Cerviel!" _Looks like they really_ aren't _afraid_ _to use that comb._

"Don't 'Cerviel' me!" they snapped in a rare moment of anger. "Why can't you tell us anything? First you begin acting weird after we don't hear from you for a month, and now you suddenly decide to quit on giving us all better lives without even consulting the rest of us first? What the Hell is wrong with you?"

It was strange hearing his sibling swear. "I thought you didn't want any part in this, Cerviel."

"No, I didn't want any part in your _underhanded tactics_!" Cerviel shook their head, presumably to do away with any incoming tears. "You don't think I care about what happens to us? What _will_ happen to us now that we have nothing? I've been doing my best to appease the higher ups with pretty words, but what'll happen when that won't be enough?"

Haniel turned his head in surprise. "Cerviel..."

Raguel stood and brought them into her arms. "That's quite enough, little one," she said softly. "We'll be fine."

Much to Haniel's surprise, Cerviel pushed her away. "You can't know that! I'm not stupid, Raguel. I _know_ what the seraphim are capable of and that the Son's no punishment policy may not be enough to keep us safe from potential retribution."

"But you said—"

"Forget what I said!" They heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry. Just... forget what I said." Then they smiled, one that was so clearly forced and filled with pain, and then they said to Haniel, "Now let's fix you up, shall we?"

Haniel exchanged a worried glance with Raguel. How much of their sibling's sweetness had been fabricated for everyone else's sake? _Poor Cerviel,_ thought the eldest of the three. _Still, they're clearly just worrying for nothing._ Surely Gabriel would leave the rest of the third sphere well enough alone so long as Haniel himself complied—or _pretended_ to comply, at least. Part of him was dying to tell them both of his intentions, but he quickly thought against it. Some secrets were worth keeping for the time being.

_Patience is a virtue._

And if all else failed...

Well, for Heaven's sake, hopefully he wouldn't.


	57. Chapter 57

Not wanting to overwhelm the girl anymore than he'd already had, they left as soon as Michael and Raziel did. Although, in hindsight, perhaps using teleportation wasn't the best course of action, either.

"There, there, Miss... Smith." Raphael had to bite his lip to stop himself from calling the woman by her old name. _Baby steps, Raph._ Rubbing her back in circular motions, he added, "Sorry. I didn't realize you were susceptible to nausea."

Jane's only response was a nod as she placed a hand over her mouth while gripping onto a bucket with the other. After a few minutes, she had apparently swallowed back the bile and spoke. "Q-quite alright, angel," she said as Raphael led her to a chair. "I apologize for... for..." She didn't finish her sentence before bringing her head close to the bucket and retching into it.

"Oh, dear." At once, he touched her shoulder and muttered a quick little miracle to relieve her of her discomfort. Naturally, she'd be better in no time, but he still nevertheless miracled a cup of chamomile tea on the table. "Go on," he encouraged when she lifted her head, no longer looking green. "Drink up."

After cleaning her mouth with her sleeve, Jane simply stared at the cup. "W-what's in it?" she asked at last.

 _Is she_ _worried_ _I poisoned it?_ Raphael thought. Which was ridiculous, as he'd already told her he was an angel, which meant he'd taken an oath to do no harm unto any humans, no matter how much he wanted to sometimes. "Chamomile, my dear. Just something to help with your stomach."

"Oh." She still didn't move to even sit in front of it, much less drink it. "Yes, of course. Thank you. But I'm fine now."

Well. Wasn't someone paranoid? "Are you sure?"

She gave a wordless nod.

"Tch." Raphael waved his hand and the cup of tea soon disappeared. "Very well." He couldn't exactly force her to drink it if she didn't want to, could he? "In that case," he said after miracling a pen and notepad into his hands, "would you mind if I asked you a few questions?"

He half expected her to protest, but was pleased when Jane shook her head. "Not at all." Yet despite her words, she still seemed somewhat reluctant. "So long as you promise to answer any of my own with complete honesty."

He nodded. "Promise." _As honest as I'm able to, at least._

At last, she smiled and seemed to relax. "Thank you. Though I must say, I don't really see what good this'll do. I'm sure Miss—" She cleared her throat. "I'm sure you've already been told of my... of my condition."

"I have." Taking a seat, he added, "So why don't we start with your earliest memory? Tell me about your time at the abbey."

Slowly, she pulled up a chair beside him. "What precisely do you wish to know?"

"Anything. Just tell me as much as you're comfortable with."

Jane nodded again. "Okay, well... there's not much to tell, I think. I just woke up one day with no memory of who I was and then I was told I'd been in a coma for eleven years."

"And did your body react negatively afterwards?" Raphael asked. "No muscular dystrophy or...?"

Jane shook her head. "I made an immediate full recovery." Quickly, she added, "And I know it sounds odd, but I _swear_ it's the truth! Oh, wait, no. I just swore in front of an angel. I'm so sorry, I only meant—"

"Jane."

She shut her mouth at the sound of his sound of his voice.

"I know what you meant, dear." Raphael held her hand and squeezed it gently. "And I hope _you_ know that you've no reason to fear me. As an angel of the Lord, you are under my protection Do you understand?"

Another wordless nod.

"Excellent," Raphael said. "Now, how did the nuns treat you?"

"Quite well," she answered. "The food was a little bland, I'll admit, but anything is better than nothing. And I had a roof over my head, so I can't really complain." She said it with such sincerity that Raphael almost believed her.

 _Almost._ Because at most, this simply meant that these nuns had basic human decency.

"Although..."

"Yes, Jane?" he prompted.

The woman hesitated for a bit, but then continued. "I wasn't really allowed to ask any questions unless it pertained to whatever has changed in the world while I was unconscious, nor was I allowed to leave my room under any circumstances." She bit her lip and looked down for a moment. "To not overwhelm me, they said."

_Or to control you._

"But they really were very kind." It almost sounded like she was trying to convince herself more so than him. "Then one day—well, one _night_ , I should say—about a month after I awoke from my comatose state, they'd apparently taken me to a park while I was sleeping and just left me there. Your sister found me the next day."

Raphael waited to see any resentment on her face, but to no avail. This _is kindness?_ he thought. And unless she was a deep sleeper, how could she not have noticed she was being moved? _Unless..._ He recalled her reaction towards the tea. She _had_ to have been drugged. It was the only other explanation. "Did the nuns give you anything to help you sleep at night?"

Jane looked thoughtful for a moment. "Just some tea, angel. They claimed it was chamomile."

 _Claimed._ What interesting phrasing. "But you didn't believe them?" It would certainly explain a few things, at least.

She looked taken aback by his question. "I never said that, angel!"

Raphael hid a smile behind his notepad as he kept writing. "Of course, my dear." Setting his writing materials aside, he then made a suitcase appear on the table and put on his gloves after taking them out of his suit. "Now," he continued as he began to open the suitcase, "if you don't mind, I'm going to have to take a sample."

Jane gulped upon seeing the sharp needle. "I... A-are you sure that's necessary, angel?"

Raphael chuckled. "Afraid of a bit of blood work, are we?"

Her small whimper seemed to confirm it.

He sighed. "Oh, very well. At the very least..." The angel then pulled out a small collection cup and an alcohol wipe. "Toilet's just down the hall, you can't miss it. Just leave it atop of the basin when you're done. I'll give you a tour of the house afterwards, and then we can go into town tomorrow." Hopefully the sight of amaryllises and roses on her bedside table triggered _something_ , as they'd been the flowers included in her wedding bouquet.

Thankfully, she obeyed without question this time. The sooner he tested her body for any lingering traces of sedatives, the better the chances were of potentially turning the woman against her horrid caretakers and getting more information out of her.

Raphael's phone rang as soon as she was out of sight, and he winced when he saw Raziel's name on the screen. He already knew it wasn't actually the archangel who was calling him. _Let's just get this over with._ "Hello?" he said after bringing the phone to his ear.

"You better have a good explanation for why you left so abruptly!" Michael said on the other end.

Raphael withheld a sigh. "The girl was clearly uncomfortable in the bookshop, Michael. As a healer, it's my job to—"

"Oh, don't give me that crap!" she snapped. And then, with a sigh, she said quietly, "You could've at least said goodbye first." It wasn't often his sister showed her vulnerable side, so this was strangely nice. "I know how busy you are, so I'm not sure when I'll see either of you again."

 _Assuming Jane would even_ want _to see you again._ But he knew Michael had a point. All today had done was remind him how short and fragile human lives were, so it seemed best to keep in touch until it was time for her to return to Heaven. "We'll see each other again soon," he said reassuringly. "Promise."

"Hm." He could almost imagine her smiling. "Well, alright then," she said. "Oh, how _is_ Jane, by the way? You didn't overwhelm her any more than you already have, did you?"

Raphael frowned. _Glad you have so much faith in me, sister._ He was about to reply, when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. "I have to go now, Michael. Talk to you later, okay? Love you. Bye!" He hung up and then put his phone on silent before she could get another word in. He genuinely did love his sister, but she made it _so difficult_ sometimes.

"Right. So." He shook off his irritation and met Jane near the bottom of the stairs. "Let's give you that tour, shall we?"

* * *

"I thank you again for your hospitality, angel."

"Oh, you're very welcome, Jane. And please, call me Raphael."

The tour itself hadn't been very long, what with the house itself being rather small, even with the additions he had to make for the sake of the human who would now be living with him. Which meant it was perfect as far as Raphael was concerned, and something told him that Jane didn't care much for the size, either.

"Now," he continued when they stopped in front of a door, "this here is your room. My office is right next to it, so don't be afraid to knock on my door if you need anything."

Jane got quiet again, which was _probably_ meant to be understanding. Then, upon crossing the threshold to her new room, she closed the door behind her, leaving Raphael to just stand outside on his own.

 _Well,_ he thought, _that wasn't strange at all._ "I'll... uh... prepare for dinner in the meantime!" If the woman wanted some privacy, she could've just said so. But humans wouldn't be humans if they weren't at least a little strange, for better or worst. That was what he always liked about them the most. They were a little like puzzles to him, really—each one being made up of tiny pieces that somehow managed to fit so perfectly well together.

Given the circumstances however, he just hoped he wouldn't regret trying to solve this one.


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy belated Valentine's Day!

"You doing alright there, angel?"

"What? Oh, yes! Just fine, dearest! Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, for one thing, it's been ten minutes and you've barely eaten anything."

"Mm?" Aziraphale looked down at his plate and saw that Crowley was right. "Oh, dear." No wonder his partner sounded so worried. How embarrassing! This was supposed to be a nice dinner between just the two of them, and here he was, wasting food. "I'm sorry, Crowley. I know you put alot of thought into tonight." Nothing fancy, really—just some roasted chicken with a few vegetables, gravy, and Yorkshire pudding—but Crowley insisted on handling tonight's meal, which was special enough for him, if only for the sheer fact alone that it'd been made by the one he loved.

Now if only he could show some actual appreciation for it.

"I suppose I'm just a bit out of sorts tonight," Aziraphale explained.

"Obviously," Crowley replied, though not out of unkindness. "Wanna talk about it?" His voice was gentle as he held his boyfriend's hand.

Aziraphale smiled, heat creeping to his cheeks as he kissed the demon's hand. Part of him wanted to refuse, not wishing to burden Crowley with his troubles and concerns. But they were a team, weren't they? Ever since the Arrangement, and perhaps even before then the more he thought about it.

"Is it Heaven again?"

Aziraphale silently noted the concern in Crowley's voice and kissed his cheek in reassurance. "You know me too well, my dear," he said warmly. "Nothing to worry about too much, I think. Just the others refusing to listen to me. Again." He hoped that didn't sound like _too_ much of a whinge, but even _he_ had his limits. "And... I'm also to return my sword to Upstairs in six days' time."

Crowley sat up a little straighter upon hearing this. "You gave it that delivery man, right? Can't you just call up the postal service and ask them for it?"

"Oh, I would," Aziraphale answered. "But I need to be absolutely sure Michael and Raziel are away before they can deliver it first. Which... just wastes more time." Of course, best case scenario was that if Upstairs ever _did_ know the truth, he'd simply recieve a scolding for irresponsibility. And he was no longer in their employ, right? But the thing about Heaven was that things were hardly ever so simple.

Aziraphale quickly continued. "And I'm pretty sure Raziel suspects something, and, oh, did I tell you he tried asking me about the other day?" It was only a matter of time before the archangel of mysteries used his specialty on him, just as he and Crowley suspected he would do soon after he'd arrived. "Oh, I'm doomed, aren't I?" Both his body and voice shook as he buried his face in his hands. He didn't want Crowley to see him cry.

"Hey." Aziraphale felt a pair of arms wrap around him in a warm embrace. "You're going to be fine, angel. _We're_ going to be fine. We've beat the odds before, haven't we?"

Aziraphale shuffled closer to lean against Crowley's chest. It did little to ease his anxieties, but the gesture was still very much appreciated. Dropping his hands, he said, "Yes, I suppose you're right." Still, it was best not to get _too_ cocky. Raziel had no loyalty towards Michael, but things could always change. That 'or else' hadn't sounded like a bluff. At least they still had that emergency escape plan, but now seemed far from the time to use it.

"Why don't one of us distracts them?" Crowley suggested suddenly. "I'll even do it myself."

Aziraphale glanced up at his beloved. "Oh, that's not necessary, dear! I could never ask you to spend time with someone you hate."

"Funny, I could say the same to you." Crowley pulled away just enough to look at his partner, tenderness in snake-like eyes. "You know I'd do anything for you, angel."

There was that heat again. _How did I ever get so lucky?_ "And you know how much I love you for it." Aziraphale nuzzled into Crowley's chest once more. "Still..." He paused, not really sure what to say next. Michael certainly seemed to hate him the least, but that didn't really seem to say much, did it?

"Tell you what," Crowley said. "Why don't we figure out a strategy in the morning? Then we'll call the post office before you head for the shop tomorrow."

Aziraphale allowed himself to smile. "That sounds lovely." Looking down at the chicken again, he added, "Now, let's dig in, shall we?" It was probably cold by now, so he handed the plate over to Crowley to heat it up a bit. Once that was done, he took a bite out of the chicken and was surprised by the taste.

In a bad way.

Aziraphale forced himself to swallow. He didn't want to seem rude, not when Crowley appeared more eager than he'd ever seen him.

"Well?"

Aziraphale took another bite. Perhaps the chewiness was simply an acquired taste. "It certainly has an... interesting taste."

Crowley frowned. "You hate it, don't you?"

"No!" This was technically true. _Hate_ was such a strong word, wasn't it? "Just... you might've overcooked the meat just a bit, my love. It's dry and stringy and..." Aziraphale stopped himself from continuing any further. "Eh, yes, well... the important thing here is that you did your best!" He held the demon's hand again and kissed him. "So I'll just have to help you for next time!"

Aziraphale was amused when he saw Crowley looking rather flushed, though he wasn't sure if it was because of the critique on the food or because of the affection he was currently receiving. "Well, if you insist," replied the demon with a small laugh.

Part of Aziraphale wished to keep eating, but if the chicken was bad, he hated to think of how the vegetables and pudding tasted. Best to at least save them for later, then. But after placing the food in the refrigerator, Aziraphale discovered that he still wanted to eat.

Crowley must've noticed, because he then asked, "Wanna go out instead? I'll get you anything you'd like."

 _Well, aren't I being spoiled tonight!_ He'd have to find some way to repay Crowley soon. His demon deserved to know just how much he was loved. "That sounds lovely, my dear." _Love._ Then an image of a magnificent tower with a stunning view came to mind. "May we be able to go to Paris tonight?"

An amused smile crossed Crowley's lips, likely remembering what they'd both come to remember as the Bastille Incident. "You know they sell crêpes here, right?"

"Oh, but France does it better!" Aziraphale laughed along. He _was_ being rather picky, wasn't he? "And doesn't a date on the Eiffel Tower sound just lovely?"

Crowley kissed his cheek. "Well, when you put it that way..." And then the angel's lips. "Let's go."

* * *

Normally, they took the Bentley to get around, but the restaurant would only be open for just a few more hours and neither of them were willing to use any more miracles to get to France faster, so even teleportation wasn't even worth discussing. So, naturally, they did the next best—and possibly safer—thing.

They flew.

"Ahhhhhh!"

Or tried to, at least. It wasn't that Aziraphale didn't know how to fly—what angel didn't?—he simply wasn't used to it. After Eden, he relied on his wings less and less to get around. It was only now did he realize he wasn't all too fond of heights. So, he clung onto Crowley and squeezed his eyes shut for safety. He could get to Paris this way, right?

"Aziraphale, you know I love you, but even _this_ is a little too close for us, don't you think?" Though Crowley's voice was teasing, he still tried to shake the angel off. A pause, and then he said, "Focus on the sky, okay? The stars, really. I'll let you know when we've arrived."

Aziraphale nodded and turned his head towards the sky after pulling away from Crowley and—oh.

_Oh!_

He'd seen stars before, of course, but being this close to them made them even more magnificent to look at. _Crowley was a star angel, wasn't he?_ They never talked about Before, but from the way the demon would talk about astronomy on occasion, it wasn't that hard to figure out. And it was because of that Aziraphale felt his heart aching for him. It must be hard, being so close to one's own creation, yet so far as well.

"You can ask, you know."

Aziraphale looked at Crowley, who wasn't looking at him. "Eh?"

"You can ask. About Before, I mean." He almost sounded certain, but there was still a bit of hesitance in the demon's voice.

Aziraphale shook his head. "Another time, perhaps. When you're actually ready."

He took Crowley's silence for gratefulness.

"But I must say—" Aziraphale's eyes were focused on the twinkling celestial lights once more—"the stars are truly beautiful tonight. I suppose they are every night, really. You've certainly outdone yourself, dearest." He covered his mouth, realizing his words too late. So much for not mentioning Before. Maybe they really should've just teleported to Paris instead.

To his surprise, he was met with a laugh. "Wait, you seriously think I created _all_ of this?" Crowley gestured to the stars with his finger in a circular motion.

Now Aziraphale felt confused. "You... you didn't?"

Another laugh. "I'm flattered you think so highly of me, angel, but... uh... would you believe me if I said I've only created a single nebula?"

Aziraphale's eyes widened. "Truly?"

Crowley's gaze turned wistful. "It was by accident, too. I was _supposed_ to be metalworking that day, but you know how I am. Even back then, I played by my own rules."

Aziraphale nodded, listening intently.

Crowley continued. "My supervisor was furious I'd snuck off again, but Ko—sorry, Stolas—said I could help out with that day's batch of stars after observing them for... years, I think? I know those technically didn't exist then, but yeah, let's go with years. Anyway, Michael tried to force me to go back to my incredibly boring job, I refused, one thing led to another, then bam! I accidentally create the Carina nebula."

Aziraphale chuckled. "Michael must've been furious."

"Oh, she was!" Crowley's mouth curled up into a triumphant smirk. "But the others defended me. Even Lu—" He cut himself off and shook his head. "Well, anyway, that was a long time ago. And I'm happy now." He took Aziraphale's hand into his when they faced each other. "Here on Earth, with you. And I'm not much of a romantic, so this is going to sound incredibly sappy right now, but... but _you're_ my star, angel. My nebula. My entire universe."

Tears of joy stung Aziraphale's eyes. "Oh, Crowley!" He pressed his lips to his boyfriend's again, this one going on for longer than the last, and once again did the angel wonder how he'd ever gotten so fortunate.

* * *

It'd taken just about an hour to reach Paris, and already did Aziraphale feel giddy from seeing all the beautiful lights once Crowley let him know they'd arrived in Paris. Soon, they landed where the shadows were and tucked in their wings.

"Let's try not to get arrested, alright?" Crowley sounded serious, but there was a glint in his eyes before he put on his glasses.

Aziraphale huffed, pretending to be annoyed. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"Nope."

They walked hand-in-hand throughout the city, with Aziraphale enjoying both the sights and Crowley's company. Spending a beautiful night with the most beautiful creature he'd ever had the pleasure of knowing in the most beautiful city in the world? Tonight was simply perfect and nothing could possibly ruin it.

_"Arrêt!"_

Okay, well, almost nothing.

The couple stopped, and Crowley stepped in front of Aziraphale, as though to shield him from whoever had called out to them. Aziraphale looked over the demon's shoulder and saw that it was a feminine-looking angel. Strangely, she was wearing black, blending in with the night.

"What do you think you're doing in my domain?" she demanded in a heavy French accent. "You're not welcome here!"

Aziraphale gulped. " _B-bonjour_ , _mademoiselle_. Er, _bonsoir_? We're terribly sorry. We were just—"

She seemed to have not even noticed Aziraphale's presence, as her attention was all on Crowley. "I already told your kind that you're not welcome here! Leave now, unless you want to take a little trip to Notre Dame!"

Crowley sighed. "Look, er..."

The French angel rolled her eyes. "Hakamiah."

"Hakamiah, right! Look, Hakamiah, we're just trying to enjoy the rest of our date." He indicated to Aziraphale with his head. "We'll be out of your home in no time, but—"

"Date?" Her eyes landed on Aziraphale with a spark of realization and a delighted gasp. "Oh! It's you!"

_Oh, no._

Immediately, Hakamiah grabbed Aziraphale's face and kissed his cheeks. " _Bienvenue_! _Mon dieu_ , do forgive me, Aziraphale. I didn't even see you there! How are you finding Paris? Did you just arrive? Would you like a tour? I'm sure one of the other French angels would be more than happy to give you one."

Crowley cleared his throat, and Hakamiah seemed just as annoyed as he so clearly was. " _We're_ fine, thanks!"

"I don't believe I was speaking with you, Serpent."

Crowley growled, until Aziraphale stepped in between him and Hakamiah. "Now, now. Let's all just calm down, shall we?" Turning to his fellow angel, he said, "Hakamiah, I'll have you know that Crowley is my boyfriend and he deserves just as much respect as I do."

He guessed Crowley was looking smug right now, as the French angel was looking more irritated than what was necessary. "Of course, Aziraphale," she replied, her voice strained. "Will you be staying long?"

Aziraphale shook his head, and she looked almost relieved. "Just for a few hours. I was in the mood for some French food and I'd thought about visiting the Eiffel Tower before, so..."

She let out a tut. "Ah. I see."

Aziraphale chuckled nervously, suddenly feeling hot and cold at the same time. Leaning against Crowley, he added, "Yes, well, we better get going now! It was lovely meeting you, Ha—"

"Get out."

Aziraphale stared at her. "P-pardon?"

"I will not repeat myself," Hakamiah replied coldly. "The demon isn't welcome in France, and as of now, neither are you. So long as you continue to defend him, that is."

"But—"

"You know his nature, my prince. I only pray he will not tire of you. _Bonne soirée_ , _monsieurs_." Hakamiah turned around and at last left them be before either of them could reply.

"Mmm..." Aziraphale frowned, but felt a little better when Crowley wrapped an arm around him.

"You okay, angel?" he asked softly.

Aziraphale nodded. "I will be, I think." Banned from France! Imagine! And from the way Hakamiah had addressed him, it was clear she was of a lower rank, likely an archangel. So did she even have any authority to ban anyone from her country at all?

Crowley pulled the angel closer to him. "Clearly there's nothing we can do to change her mind. Come on. I'll buy you some crêpes when we get back home."

 _Change her mind..._ And just like that, it was like a lightbulb had gone off in Aziraphale's head. "That's it!"

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "What is?"

Aziraphale grinned. "Crowley, my dear, I think I know _just_ how to distract Michael and Raziel! _And_ who should be the one to do it."


	59. Chapter 59

Michael had to set her coffee down because she could hardly believe her ears. "Let me get this straight—you want me to go all the way to France to convince Hakamiah to lift her anti-demon ban... just so you and Crowley can go out on a date?"

"Er..." Aziraphale avoided her gaze by glancing downward as he shuffled his foot. "Y-yes. Th-that would indeed be accurate."

Michael scowled. How frivolous could one angel be? And what was so wrong with England that no longer made it a viable option for a date night? She didn't know the demon that well, but she doubted Crowley would care much about _where_ Aziraphale took him so long as they were together.

Noticing her disapproval, the principality continued. "It isn't right, Michael, no matter what you may think of Crowley. He hasn't even done anything wrong!"

This got a bitter laugh out of her. Was Aziraphale so blinded by love that he was now choosing to ignore his boyfriend's crimes?

"Recently!" he quickly added. "And besides, what if Hakamiah just starts to ban anyone she doesn't like? If you won't do it for us, then will you at least do it for the sake of fairness?"

Michael crossed her arms, unimpressed with his argument. "Well, I think banning someone as notorious as Crowley is _quite_ fair if you ask me!" Now if only he could be banned from every other country as well.

Beside her, Raziel was scrolling through his phone. "He's got a point, you know," he said without looking up.

"Of course _you_ would side with him!" She tapped her finger on the desk thoughtfully. She could think of a whole host of reasons for why it was a terrible idea to go to France, her disapproval towards Aziraphale's relationship with that horrid snake aside. For one, there was no telling if Hakamiah would even be willing to listen to her anyway.

For another, it was _France_.

Michael shook her head just as the image of a young girl began to appear in her mind. "I'm sorry, Aziraphale, but I can't," she said. "Why don't you just ask Raphael to help you out? I'm sure he'll be more than happy to vouch for you, and my brother can do no wrong in Heaven's eyes." _Wait, did that sound resentful?_ She hadn't meant for it to be.

Aziraphale frowned as she grabbed her coffee once more, though his reaction was likely due to her refusal than anything else. "I understand, Michael," he said softly. "I just really wanted things to be special for when I proposed, but—"

He was interrupted when she spat out her drink. "P-proposal!?" Had he finally gone mad? Or perhaps he always was. What could possibly be more blasphemous than performing such sacred rites with a _demon_?

In perfect contrast, Raziel's brown eyes were alight with excitement when he finally lifted his head from the screen. "You wanna get married?" he asked delightedly. "Oh, just wait 'till the others hear 'bout this!"

"Don't you dare!" Aziraphale replied as Raziel turned back to his phone, his eyes wide with fear. "I don't want more attention drawn to myself."

The other angel sighed. "Oh, fine!" With a teasing smile, he added, " _After_ the weddin', then!" Then he turned to Michael with pleading eyes. "Now we _have_ to help out!"

Michael stared at him. _"We?"_ The last thing she expected from Raziel was for him to be a romantic.

"Please, Michael? For true love?"

Michael wasn't sure whether to feel annoyed or amused. "Even if I wanted to go to France, there's still the time limit to keep in mind." _Two hours,_ Nithael had said. She didn't want to find out what would happen if she missed it. "So I don't see why Hakamiah can't just come here instead. Or maybe we can just call her."

Raziel shook his head. "That won't do. I doubt she'd want to leave her country just to discuss a traitor's love life—no offense Aziraphale!"

"And you think _I_ do?"

"I _think_ we'll get through to her more if we meet her face-to-face at her home. Let her think she has the advantage before we strike. As for time, you know we can just use teleportation, right?"

Michael couldn't help but feel impressed with her guardian. _Thinking like a strategist now, are we?_ And yet, despite all of this, she simply couldn't disagree more. She turned to Aziraphale. "Don't you think you're rushing into this just a bit, dear?" she asked sweetly. "I'm aware you've known each other for a long time, but..."

But Aziraphale remained undeterred. "You don't know my relationship with Crowley," he said, beaming.

At this, Michael and Raziel shared a glance. Oh, if only he knew.

_Let's try something else, then._ "I hope you know that if I help you, I'll be seen as a demon sympathizer." Another bitter laugh, this one more towards herself. "If they don't think that of me already, that is!" What had she been thinking, keeping Ligur as a secret correspondent? Never again would she listen to her heart over her head. "I refuse to sully my reputation any further just because _you're_ being picky!"

Guilt and confusion flashed in Aziraphale's eyes, but he remained silent.

Raziel gently squeezed her hand. "Maybe you won't have to," he said. "I'll be honest, most of the third sphere doesn't really care too much for Crowley. It's not just Hakamiah."

"Ah, so they _do_ have standards, then," Michael said dryly.

" _But_ we all love Aziraphale." Raziel shot a quick glance at the principality. "Or at least, we love what he represents."

"What's your point?"

"Let's think about this politically for a second—you wanna be respected again, dontcha? Well, whether you like it or not, it's the third sphere you'll _really_ want to please. You make sure he's happy, you make sure _all_ of us are happy. So if that happiness spreads..."

_"If."_ Michael shook her head. "No guarantee, then. What's more likely to happen is that Aziraphale's reputation will suffer as well." A pause, then a wry smile. "Oh, maybe we _should_ go to France, then!"

"Very funny," Aziraphale muttered. "Although, Raziel _may_ just be onto something here. As I've said, what if Hakamiah just starts to ban anyone she doesn't like? And what if _that_ spreads? Why, there'd be complete and utter chaos!" He shuddered. "Wars could break out, alliances could be destroyed, and Hell could—"

Michael groaned as she rubbed her forehead. She could see the scenario all too clearly in her mind. "Alright, I get it!" There was no guarantee of _that_ happening either, but the risk was certainly far greater when she wasn't taking Aziraphale and Crowley into account.

She felt Raziel rubbing her back. "You _may_ wanna tone it down just a bit, Zira."

"Er, of course. Sorry."

Michael lightly swatted Raziel away. "No, it's fine." She hadn't even considered what Hakamiah's ban could mean for the rest of Heaven. Was she losing her touch? "I... I see what you mean now, Aziraphale. What you'll be needing is an emissary." Why did it have to be _her_ , though? Still, she'd be lying if she said she didn't want to get out of the bookshop for a bit and just do something _useful_ for a change, even if it _was_ to travel to the country that had brought her nothing but pain. And a good leader faced their fears, didn't they?

"So... um..."

Michael sighed. She wasn't being given much of a choice here, was she? "Very well. I'll help."

Aziraphale grinned. "Oh, thank you!" Then he stood and hesitantly held out a hand. "Er, for true love and politics, then?"

Michael gave a soft laugh and shook it after standing herself. "For true love and politics."

"For true love and politics!" A flash blinded Michael's vision. "This picture's gonna make front page news! Just think, two enemies working together to fulfill a common goal!"

Michael blinked rapidly while Raziel was too busy talking to himself. She wasn't sure whether to pity him or feel disturbed for him having yet to accept the loss of that precious newspaper of his.

Aziraphale leaned in closer to her. "I thought the _Observer_ shut down," he whispered.

Michael placed a hand on the principality's shoulder without looking at him. "Just... just let him have this."

* * *

"Are you sure it was wise of you to let Crowley tend to the bookshop?" Michael asked Aziraphale while Raziel was on the phone with Hakamiah. The faith he had in his demonic partner truly was astounding sometimes.

Aziraphale nodded confidently. "It'll only be for a few hours, and besides, I'm not in, which means the shop will be closed anyway. All Crowley will need to do is clean, I think."

Michael furrowed her brow, recalling the angel's ridiculously irregular opening hours. It wasn't even worth trying to convince him to turn it into a library anymore. "Right." Closing her eyes, she added, "I just hope this'll all be worth it." They had used teleportation to get to a remote part of France, and the sooner she got _out_ of the country, the better.

Raziel's voice made her reopen her eyes, a disappointed look on his face. "She's not comin'."

Aziraphale frowned. And was that perhaps fear? "O-oh, no! Did... did she at least say why?"

"Demon trouble, apparently." There was a look of concern on the archangel's face as he approached Michael. "We should get out of here, before anyone from Hell spots you."

"What?" Michael took a step back. "And let my angels fight on their own?" She'd never backed down from a fight before, she wasn't going to start now.

" _Your angels_ are capable of fendin' for themselves!" Raziel pointed out. "You've trained us well, Michael. And besides, it sounds like it's just a few demons causin' some light mischief. Hakamiah will be fine. What matters now is keepin' you safe."

Michael narrowed her eyes. "Keeping me safe!" she spat bitterly.

"Oh, come on! You _know_ I didn't mean it like that!" Sighing, he added, "And now isn't the time to let your pride get in the way."

"My _pride_?" How dare he!

A deadpanned expression appeared on the archangel's face and he then pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ya know, I'm really beginnin' to wonder why I'm still holdin' out hope for you."

Michael's brow furrowed at his words and she briefly averted her gaze from his. Why was she so bad at this? At being nice. And Raziel hadn't apparently _completely_ given up on her, which was perhaps more than she deserved. "I'm sorry."

She wasn't sure if Raziel had actually heard her, as he'd simply turned to Aziraphale afterwards. "What do you think we should do, Aziraphale?" the archangel asked.

The principality was clearly surprised by the question as he shifted his conflicted gaze between Raziel and Michael and back to Raziel again. "Mm." He closed his eyes, but it didn't take very long for him to collect his thoughts. Casting a glance at Michael, he said, "I think we should leave while we still can."

Michael opened her mouth in protest, but Aziraphale cut her off.

"Please don't take this to mean I think you're useless, Michael. You know how much I love the humans, how resilient I think them to be. But it's too much of a risk. My... my proposal can wait. If another demon sees you, either Hell will take the opportunity to attack Heaven or kill you, and neither of us want that, do we?"

Michael frowned, hating that he was right. If she were to be captured or worse in her current state, who would defeat Satan then? And unlike the two angels before her, she had no way to access a weapon of her own whenever it suited her. "Very well," she said at last. "Let's get back to the shop, then."

Raziel looked relieved, his shoulders relaxing. "Thank you." But before he could grab hold of her hand, something in the sky caught his attention. Michael followed his gaze upward and her heart sank when she realized why he'd stopped, for high above their heads were three humanoid creatures with black wings.

Demons.

And they'd spotted them.

"Shields up!"

The angels obeyed the order almost instinctively, forming a protective dome around them as a fireball started to head their way. Even with two angels keeping it up, they all knew it wouldn't hold for long.

"Why aren't they being more careful?" Aziraphale asked as more fireballs bounced off the barrier. "What if a human passes by and—"

" _That's_ what you're concerned with right now?" Raziel snapped.

"They must be young ones," Michael guessed. Which would actually make them cambion unless there was another Fall she wasn't aware of. They'd tired themselves out soon enough. If they didn't kill her first, that is. "Do you think they noticed me?"

"Let's hope not!" Raziel replied. "Aziraphale, after we lower the shield, I need you to make sure the demons don't follow my scent when I teleport Michael back to England."

The principality nodded dutifully, but then a look of confusion crossed his face. "Er, how exactly do I do that?"

 _Idiot!_ "You're an angel, aren't you?" Michael growled. "Distract them! Use your sword to fend them off."

"My... uh... my sword. Yes."

"Don't tell me you lost it!"

Aziraphale shook his head. "Of course not! I just—ah!" He jumped forward upon another fireball hitting the dome. "Can't Raziel stay behind instead?"

Raziel bristled, eyes still on the flying halflings. "You're a principality, so that already makes you more powerful than me!"

"Well, actually—"

"And let's face it, you're valuable."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Aren't you immune to Hellfire anyway, Aziraphale?" Michael pointed out. Out of the three of them, only _he_ had no reason to fear the infernal flames. So why did he still seem so scared?

"O-of course I am!" Aziraphale replied. "But—"

Another hit. And then a crack.

They all huddled closer together, and Michael found herself silently praying for salvation until Raziel spoke again. "I don't care how dirty that sword of yours is, just summon it! Now!"

Aziraphale whimpered and backed away slightly from the archangel. "I'm sorry. I-I can't!"

"You _can't_?" Michael repeated with a growl. "What do you mean _you can't_?" She felt her stomach twist up into knots. Had Aziraphale been working with Hell after all? Had this all been a trap set up by the third sphere so the Other Side would kill her? They didn't hate her _that_ much, did they? And what about Raziel?

 _I can't die! Not yet! Not to fire!_ The best she could hope for after the shield broke was either a capture or quick death. Demons—even half demons—weren't usually known for their mercy, but perhaps they'd make an exception for her.

 _Like how_ you _showed mercy upon_ their parents _?_

They'd simply laugh at her if she begged and then likely increase the intensity of the flames. Oh, the flames. Just the thought of being burned alive made her want to scream as she felt her chest tighten, as though it were already being filled with smoke. And to think she'd agreed to subject Aziraphale to such a cruel, slow, merciless death. He had every right to loathe her. They all did.

And yet—

 _No!_ Michael shook the protesting thought away, as though it were nothing more but an annoying fly. _No more excuses._ She was tired. Tired of the lectures, the disapproving looks, the intense resentment...

She hated all of it.

 _I need to do better,_ she reminded herself. That was the entire point of all of this, wasn't it? And if not for her own sake, then for Heaven's.

"What do you mean you _gave it away_!?"

Raziel's angry voice broke her thoughts, making her remember the cambion. Right. There'd be time to feel bad for herself later.

Aziraphale stepped away from the archangel as much as he could. Michael knew the principality to be quite cowardly, but even _he_ seemed more frightened than usual. Whatever had he done to get Raziel so incensed? More cracks appeared on the barrier before she could ask.

Raziel glared at the halflings. "Don't you three have anything better to do?" His question went ignored. "Oh, forget this! Aziraphale, take Michael back to the shop. _I'll_ stay here and deal with these delinquents!"

Aziraphale nodded and proceeded to take Michael's hand into his. The last thing she saw before Raziel was out of sight was the archangel summoning his sword as the barrier came down.

* * *

It was only after they got back to Soho did Michael regret not protesting again. And for once, it wasn't just because she longed to fight, either.

Aziraphale noticed her distress. "Raziel will be alright," he said gently. But there seemed to be just a bit of guilt in his voice as well. "Like he said, you've trained us well."

 _You should've stayed behind instead!_ she wanted to snap. But she held her tongue. She was meant to be trying. Yet this didn't do much to quench her curiosity, either. Why _had_ Aziraphale been so reluctant to use his immunity to their advantage? Such a power would be useful to any angel! And just what exactly had he given away?

 _His sword, perhaps?_ The thought went away as quickly as it had come. Just the implications such a deed would entail were enough to make her shudder. No angel would be foolish enough to give such a special weapon to the mortals. Not even Raziel and the Watchers.

They walked in silence the rest of the way, and Aziraphale seemed more uncomfortable with each step. Was he worried about Raziel as well? But before she could ask what was wrong, he turned to her just as they reached the bookshop. "Are you angry with me?" he asked.

"Angry?" Now she was even more confused, but attempted a soft laugh to lighten the mood. "Whyever for?"

He looked somewhere between surprised and relieved, but before Aziraphale could speak again, Crowley answered the door. "Back so soon?" he teased after greeting his partner with a kiss, yet something about it sounded forced.

Aziraphale said nothing as he entered the shop, Michael trailing not far behind. She could practically _feel_ the anxiety rolling off of him.

"Is he alright?" Crowley asked her, his voice accusatory.

Michael glared at him. "I didn't do anything to him, if that's what you're wondering!"

"Hmph." The demon said no more and joined Aziraphale at a nearby table to comfort him. "Hey. What's wrong? I thought—" He briefly looked at Michael. "Well, you know."

Michael tilted her head. Had Crowley known about the proposal this whole time? Weren't those things usually supposed to be surprises? _These two are stranger than I thought._ But just as she was about to leave them be, she heard Aziraphale finally speak again.

"They know, Crowley."

 _Know? Know_ what _?_

"Aziraphale." Michael approached the pair slowly. "What are you talking about?"

The principality's eyes widened. "You didn't hear?"

Clearly this was about his conversation with Raziel, then. She couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Sorry, but I was a bit too busy focusing on the fireballs to pay much attention to your bickering."

"Wait, what fireballs?" Crowley asked, his hand reaching for Aziraphale's. "Did Hell come after you?"

"Just a few young ones, Crowley," Michael quickly reassured him. She wasn't going to let them change the subject so easily. "Now, what was it you were talking about? To Crowley, to Raziel. Whatever has been bothering you, you can tell me."

Crowley scoffed while Aziraphale shrank back. Still, she stayed where she was. "N-nothing, Michael," said the angel. Which was clearly a lie, or why else would he be so upset? She was about to say such when there was a sudden knock on the door.

"I'll get that," she told the couple as they began to stand. It was probably— _hopefully_ —Raziel. Except it wasn't. Instead, Michael was greeted by the sight of a friendly looking delivery man. He had a wide package with him.

"Good day, miss," he said cheerfully. "I have a sword here for a Mister A.Z. Fell."

Michael stood mostly frozen, the only movement being that of her fingers slowly curling into the palm of her hands. It was the only thing that could stop her from yelling. "A sword, you say?" She made sure to keep her voice even so as not to scare the man off. He didn't deserve her wrath. Aziraphale, on the other hand...

_Remember your mission, Michael._

A nervous laugh sounded behind her, and Aziraphale gently pushed Michael out of the way to stand in front of the delivery man. "Good to see you again, my good man! I'll just take this off your hands now!" He signed the Proof of Delivery and thanked the man before closing the door, and then he turned to face Michael with the widest grin she'd ever seen. "So, uh... I can explain!"

* * *

Aziraphale—principality of Soho and guardian of the Eastern Gate of the Garden of Eden—had given away his one and only flaming sword to a pair of humans.

And not just any humans, but Adam and Eve.

Six thousand years, and Michael had been none the wiser.

She felt like a fool.

The angel was still prattling on, something about War, but Michael was too busy processing the revelation of his ancient crime to really listen to anything else he had to say. _Lord, grant me strength._ _Did_ this classify as a crime? Especially when it'd been for a noble cause anyway. As far as she knew, there was nothing stating an angel _couldn't_ give away celestial weapons to humans.

Then again, before the Great Fall, there was also nothing stating an angel couldn't go up against God, either. Some things just went without saying. And wasn't the road to Hell paved with good intentions? As for War, if the violent personification of humanity's cruelty truly was involved somehow, then...

"How did Abel die?" She hadn't actually meant to ask the question aloud, but at least it got Aziraphale to finally stop talking.

The angel looked surprised by the question. "I... I don't—"

"Abel, Aziraphale!" She stood from her chair until her shadow loomed over him. "Eve's second-born! Killed by his elder brother Cain! Ring any bells?"

"Easy there, Michael." Crowley grabbed her shoulder from behind until she took a few steps away from his beloved. Only a demon could make such a simple statement sound threatening. And unfortunately for her, the angel still appeared to be very confused.

"I-I know who Abel is— _was_ ," said Aziraphale. "I just don't understand what he has to do with any of this. Didn't the records state Cain killed him with a large rock?"

"You mean the same records that didn't take a missing sword into account?" Come to think of it, had Raziel known about this as well? He'd once been Adam and Eve's guardian, after all. And no doubt that angel had more secrets than she had slayings. And what did that say about Raphael? But one thing at a time. For now, she waited for Aziraphale to get her implication.

It was slow, with the principality's brow having been furrowed in contemplation, but then she saw the confusion begin to fade. Then his eyes widened, followed at last by the spark of realization. "Y-you think I—that Cain—that my sword..." Rather than finishing his sentences, Aziraphale let out another whimper.

Crowley was at his side again, quietly consoling him before glaring at Michael. "Abel's death wasn't Aziraphale's fault! The humans have free will, remember?"

 _Yes, no thanks to you and that stupid mother of Cain's!_ "That may be, but it stands to reason that if the boys even knew of the sword at all, perhaps Cain got a few ideas from... somewhere." Perhaps she was reaching, but if Aziraphale truly was responsible for the first murder, even indirectly, and therefore war by extension, then...

What exactly _was_ she to do with this information?

Aziraphale echoed her thoughts, close to tears. "What are you going to do?" he asked fearfully. "I know I shouldn't have given away my sword, but how else could they have survived the cold and wild animals, and she was already with child, and—"

He stopped talking when Michael raised a hand to call for silence. "Be still, Aziraphale," she said, surprised by her own gentle tone, though perhaps the day's events had simply tired her out. Had she still been an angel, she knew she would've had him face hers and Gabriel's judgement by now. Or was this the sort of thing one had to leave up to God? _Speaking of..._ "Did the Almighty know of this?"

"Uh... I'm not sure, actually."

"You're _not sure_?"

"Well, She asked me about it once not too long after the Expulsion, I said I put it down somewhere, and then She never asked me about it again."

Michael bit her lip. God almost definitely knew about it, then. Somehow that _seemed_ like the right answer, at least. _You had Her favor even back then_ , she thought, doing her best to ignore the twinge of envy. "I see," she replied, forcing out the words. Then she sighed and began to pace in front of them, because it was the only thing she could do to keep herself calm. Here she was, in front of two of humanity's most dangerous beings, and she could do nothing about it. _Just my luck!_

"M-Michael?"

She stopped to face Aziraphale. "Yes?"

"What exactly are you going to do?"

She silently noted the ever-growing fear on his face as Crowley still tried to calm him down. Did he really not realize she could do nothing to him even if she wanted to? Not as a human, not even as an angel. Because unlike the rebels, she _wasn't_ going to risk God's wrath for her own personal gain.

But she couldn't just leave this alone either, could she? If Crowley had given the humans knowledge, Aziraphale had provided them with at least two means of destruction. A sword for stabbing, and fire for arson...

 _Fire. Hm._ That made him indirectly responsible for Jehanne's death as well. And to think, she'd once blamed the Watchers for teaching the humans about metalworking. Treacherous as they'd been, there was no need to hate them for something they didn't do.

"We'll simply have to wait and see, won't we?" Michael said at last. "I can't do anything to you now, Aziraphale, so you would do well to ease your mind for the next several... years." She almost said _months_ until she remembered that no one could know of her Deal with Nithael. "And don't worry about Raziel. I'll keep your secret for as long as I can. But you can be sure I'll discuss this with the others when I get back home. Understood?" It hadn't been a lie, she _would_ need to discuss this with at least the Metatron when she got back. So why had it felt like one?

Aziraphale nodded, only relaxing slightly. "Yes, of course, Michael."

Crowley simply looked at her with skeptical yellow eyes, but what else was new? "Sure..."

"Good!" She clasped her hands together and smiled in an attempt to show they could trust her. She needed to break the tension somehow, didn't she? Then she noticed a small pile of books nearby and her smile grew. "Now let's get this place cleaned up, shall we?"


End file.
